Blood Debt
by Skiaria
Summary: Dean and Sam fall prey to a vampire trap. Sam escapes but must leave Dean behind. When Sam loses the trail, he calls on Lenore for aid. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for Luther's death is to be turned.  Post Croatoan.
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post AHBL.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some following chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

———————————————————————————

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 1_

Dean saw Sam's discreet yawn as they waited at the steakhouse for their meals.

"Are you sure you want to drive on to Springville tonight?" Sam asked. He'd really rather just hole up in a local motel and get in a good night's sleep. It was only 9 pm and already he was tired. The ghost had all but kicked their asses until they managed to find the preserved finger of the man and gave it a salt and burn. They'd been up most the night prior, trying without success to get the ghost. When they'd figured out the ghost came out at sunset, they tried again today and the battle was on. Sam ached from the fight and figured he'd hurt even worse tomorrow. Looking at his brother, he saw the adrenaline high still shone in Dean's eyes.

"Hell Sammy, I don't think I could fall asleep if I wanted to right now. That was an awesome salt and burn. That little bastard won't be strangling any other unfortunate hikers." Dean's smile was that of the cat that got the canary. Maybe the whole flock.

Sam gave a nod. He was glad for that fact. Twelve people had been killed over the past five years and the last two and been a father and his twelve-year-old son. Sam was hoping for a few days to recuperate but Dean had already found them a potential job a good six hours away, dog attacks that suggested a black dog or hellhound or something like that. It would take some on-site investigating to see what they were dealing with and if it was even supernatural.

The waitress slid their dinners in front of them. Sam dribbled a light spotting of A-1 on his steak, just enough to mix in with the garlic butter for that little extra zing. He looked over at Dean who was already digging enthusiastically into his meal. Sam made a face at him.

Dean stabbed the next piece of steak he'd cut off and saw Sam's look of disgust. "What?"

"Dean that thing could practically moo," Sam said, wrinkling his nose. "What's you do, ask for steak tar-tar?"

Dean grinned. "Told them to run it through a warm room. C'mon, just a quarter inch cooked on either side, and nice and juicy on the inside. Doesn't get much more perfect."

"You mean raw," Sam said, practically gagging at the blood on Dean's plate from the very rare steak.

"It's not raw," Dean protested. "Look. Grill marks," Dean said, pointing out the black lines.

"Probably put on with a Sharpie," Sam snorted.

"Your steak's so well done it's practically burnt," Dean said. "And A-1? That's enough to ruin any steak." Dean took his fork and stabbed one of the onion rings Sam had knocked off the steak.

"At least I don't have to worry about getting sick from mine," Sam countered. "And who said you could have my onion rings?"

Dean laughed. "Big brother prerogative, Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam muttered and quickly snagged the remaining onion ring and started to cut off a piece of it to eat when he saw the pathetic, envious look on his brother's face. With a long-suffering sigh he held it out to his brother.

Dean grinned, accepted the offer, and devoured the onion ring. Sam took a last look and the pool of blood around Dean's steak and shook his head. Give him well-done any day.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Sam had long since drifted off into sleep when Dean roused him with a slap on his shoulder.

"Dude, car pulled off up ahead. Looks like a flat tire."

Sam roused sleepily and stared through the rain-speckled glass. A late nineties dark blue car, a Saturn, Sam finally identified, was pulled over on the side of the road. The trunk was open and one woman was getting the donut tire out of the trunk while the other was studying the lug nuts on the left rear wheel. A small battery-operated lantern with a bright white light and a small flashing red light on top sat by the tire. Both women were nicely built, in tight jeans and equally tight sweaters. One was a blonde with a pony tail and the other had long, dark hair. Both looked in their early twenties.

"Ooo baby," Dean said, letting the Impala slow down. "Might be our lucky night, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam said, with some exasperation.

"Fun, Sam. Remember fun?" Dean chastised. He saw the indecision in his brother's face and decided to try a different tactic. "C'mon, they need some help. It's cold, and it's wet. What, you want to just drive on by and leave them to the next guy? He could be a serial killer or something. Now do you really want that on your conscience?"

Sam looked out at them and then over at his brother. Dean's eyes were bright with hope and obvious plans for the rest of the night.

"Fine," Sam said finally, rolling his eyes.

"That's my boy!" Dean said enthusiastically and slowed the Impala to a stop beside the car. Both women looked warily at them. Sam rolled down his window. "Do you two need some help? Or want us to call a tow truck for you?" Sam asked.

"It's just a flat tire," the dark-haired girl said. "We'll be okay."

"We could change it for you," Dean offered. "Sam's great at changing tires."

Sam glared at his brother and Dean just grinned back. The women passed a look between them and finally the dark-haired girl relented. "Well, okay, I guess. I've never actually changed a tire before."

Dean pulled the Impala off to the side of the road ahead of the car and both men got out. The rain had all but stopped, just a light sprinkle misting them. It was chilly, their breath causing wisps of white vapor.

"Dude," Sam said, hitting Dean in the shoulder. "Keys."

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"I want my gloves, okay? Fifteen minutes out in this, changing a tire, and I won't be able to feel my hands. They're in the trunk."

Dean shook his head and tossed him the keys. "Such a damned girl," he said softly and was rewarded with a glare from Sam. He chuckled and turned back to the women. "Ladies," he said cheerfully and gave them a broad smile. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. It's kinda late to be out, isn't it?"

"We closed Tilly's Bar," the dark-haired girl said. "Must have picked up a nail in their parking lot."

"So you live around here?" Dean asked her.

"I do," the blonde said. "I'm Janine, this is my cousin Suzanne. She's visiting from California." She smiled at Dean then Sam. "I hated to call my parents this late. We were going to try to change it ourselves, first. Until you two came along. We appreciate you stopping."

"Always glad to help out ladies in distress." Dean said and stopped to stand by Suzanne. He gave her a charming smile. "So you're from Cali? Where abouts?"

"Janine, do you have the wheel lock key tool for the lug nut?" Sam asked, kneeling by the flat tire.

She shrugged. "It's mom's car. Maybe the glove box?"

"Dean," Sam said. Dean ignored him and continued his small talk with Suzanne. "Dean!" Sam yelled at him.

"What?!" Dean said and looked over at him.

Sam gave him his patented exasperated look. "Will you check the car's glove box for the wheel lock tool?"

"Let me just get this for him," Dean told Suzanne pleasantly. He turned and gave Sam a dirty look then walked around to the passenger's side and opened the door. He leaned in and tried the glove box, but it wouldn't open. "It's locked. I need the key."

"I've got them," Suzanne said and walked around to join Dean. He gave her another smile, watching her swaying hips and pleasant chest-bounce appreciatively. He decided they were definitely real.

Sam leaned low and pushed the jack under the car, carefully aligning it. The cold, wet rain on the pavement soaked the knee of his jeans and made him grimace. A loud thump was followed with the car sharply rocking. Sam looked up, concerned. Before he could rise to investigate the noise he saw Janine standing over him, grinning at him with vampire teeth fully exposed. She backfisted him and he was thrown several feet toward the Impala. He lay a moment, stunned, but the cold water on the pavement quickly penetrated his Levi coat and shirt, and helped clear his head. He scrambled to his feet and stared at her in horror. Janine began a slow casual stride toward him.

Sam eased back toward the Impala, his hazel eyes locked on Janine. He had a bad feeling he knew just what had made that thump he'd heard. He shouted, "Dean? Dean!"

Suzanne leaned on the open passenger's side door. "He bumped his head, Sam," she said, showing her fangs. "Now why don't you just calm down? It'll be much easier. Admittedly though, we do prefer our prey to run. At least a little bit."

Noises in the woods to his left drew Sam's attention from Janine. He saw shadows moving in the brush.

"Dean!" he shouted again. He could see the leather of Dean's coat through the car window. Dean wasn't moving. Sam spun and ran back to the car, grabbing a 9-mm gun out of the front seat and aiming it at Janine. Janine continued toward him, unconcerned. The shadows stepped out of the brush; there were three men and one woman. Their eyes glittered silver.

Sam squeezed the gun's trigger, knowing full well it wouldn't stop Janine, but hoping to slow her down. After unloading the clip into her, he jumped in the Impala, shoved the keys in the ignition and cranked it. He threw the care into gear and practically spun it in place. Janine stood in front of the car, bloodspots on her sweater and an annoyed look on her face the only indications she'd been shot.

"Sam, dear, you can't get away." Janine said, her vampire teeth no longer showing. "Why don't you just relax and give it up? If you come along now, quietly, I promise you, you'll have the best time of your life. I'll take you so high, you'll never want to come down."

Sam's eyes narrowed as he stomped on the gas and plowed the car into her. When he slammed on the brakes, she went flying backward. The others by the Saturn rushed toward the Impala. One punched through the driver's side window and reached in, grabbing the collar of Sam's Levi jacket. Sam shoved the gas pedal down then hit the brakes as he spun the wheel. The vampire lost its grip and fell away, his fingernails leaving three bloody gashes along Sam's neck. Sam spun the car to face the vampires.

"Dammit Dean, wake up," Sam muttered. "How the hell am I going to take down six vampires?" He gauged their locations and began to choose targets. If he could keep them on the run, he might be able to get them away from the Saturn, buy enough time that either Dean woke up, or that he could get to Dean and get him into the Impala. It wasn't going to be easy in any case and Sam felt his stomach clench. He reached under the left side of the seat and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun. It should have enough kick to keep a vampire off of him when he went to rescue Dean. If it hadn't been raining, he'd pull the Impala off the road, right up next to the passenger's side of the Saturn, but he was afraid the car would get stuck in the mud, and he couldn't risk that.

Lights in his rear view mirror flashed into his eyes. The six vampires by the Saturn whooped in delight.

The rest of the nest was coming.

"Dammit!" Sam swore, knowing that his chances just took a radical change for the worse. Sam wedged the shotgun by his leg, gave the car where Dean laid unconscious one last look, then pushed the gas to the floor. He knew he didn't have a prayer of getting to Dean at this point. _They'll keep him alive to feed on him_, Sam reassured himself as the Impala roared down the highway.

The other car was gaining on him. He kept the pedal to the floor and the Impala screamed as its speedometer continued to climb. Sam slid the car through curves, barreled down roads, and spun it onto crossroads, pushing the Impala and his own driving skills to their limits. Fifteen minutes later he finally lost the lights in his rearview mirror. He turned the car onto a long, dirt driveway and pulled in behind a line of trees and brush, shutting off the engine and headlights.

He waited and watched, grabbing another clip for the gun he'd used on Janine and replacing the spent one. Reaching under the right side of the seat he pulled out the foot-long knife Dean kept there and set it beside him. The knife wasn't ideal for decapitation, but it would get the job done and Sam didn't want to get out of the car just yet. He needed to try to minimize his scent and standing out in the wind would only carry his scent further.

His eyes stayed on the road and he strained to hear any hint of the car that had chased him. As his adrenaline began to fade, he noticed that the left side of his face began to hurt. He looked at it in the rear view mirror. It was badly bruised, swollen, and it felt tight. The gashes on his neck stung and were still oozing blood. He claimed the first aid kit from the back seat and cleaned his wounds and bandaged them while he was waiting, then held an icepack to his cheek.

Twenty minutes ticked slowly by and still no car passed where Sam was hidden. He finally accepted that he'd shaken them.

He went back to the trunk and pulled out two machetes and two shotguns. After he loaded them with buckshot, he picked up the 45 his father had given him when he was nine, confirmed it was loaded, then dug through the ammo until he found the 9-mm clip marked with red tape. He replaced the current clip in the 9-mm with the new one. Dean and he had come up with a way to load a little bit of deadman's blood inside a tumbling full-metal jacket bullet. They both felt the small quantity of deadman's blood was probably insufficient to do much, but they'd decided to try it anyhow. Sometimes even an extra second meant the difference between life and death.

"Six vamps on the road, at least two or more in the car. Yeah, real freaking fun, Dean. I wish to God you'd learn to think with your upper brain more often than the lower one," Sam muttered as he stuffed the duffel bag with the four guns and two machetes.

He hoped he could find the place he'd left Dean. He'd tried to keep track of the turns he made, but frankly he wasn't even sure where he was at the moment.

The small arsenal of weapons sat in the duffel on the seat beside him as he pulled the car back out on to the road. He began a slow and tedious backtrack and, an hour later, found the spot they'd been ambushed.

There was no sign of the cars or of Dean, not that Sam had expected there would be. Sam pulled off to the side of the road and began searching the area for clues. He cursed the darkness, but was grateful the rain hadn't returned. A couple of fresh, half-full beer bottles and some stubbed out cigarettes were all that he found, but it was better than nothing. The beer was probably purchased nearby and might point him in the right direction for the nest. He trudged off into the woods to hunt for more clues, knowing he might have to come back in the daylight if he came up empty.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he searched. _I've got to track them back to their nest. I'll have to wait until daylight to make my move. In daylight, I shouldn't have too much trouble getting in and getting out with Dean. I hope Dean doesn't tip our hand and let them know we're hunters or that I'll be coming to rescue him. That damned smart mouth of his sometimes, though. No. No. He knows better. He'd never blow that._

He knew it would probably take a day or more to track them to their nest and the thought of what could happen to Dean in that time made his blood run cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post AHBL.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language and this chapter has a bit of violence toward the end.

———————————————————————————

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 2_

He was trying to figure out why he felt like he was in a moving car, why he was wrapped in a canvas tarp that smelled of mold and urine and puke, why the back of his head was screaming pain, why he couldn't see a damned thing, and why he couldn't move his hands or feet.

And then he remembered.

"That bitch!" Dean growled as he wriggled, trying to throw the tarp off of his head.

His hands were tied behind him, his feet were tied, and the tarp was apparently tied around him with more rope. The bouncing of the moving car wasn't helping. Failing to get the tarp of his head, he reached into the waistband of his jeans, extracted the small blade he kept there, and began to saw through one of the multiple rows of thick ropes. He just had to get through one, get his arms worked loose, and then he should be able to get himself ready for when the car stopped.

He hoped Sam had gotten away and was suddenly grateful Sam had been such a girl about his gloves and had the keys. It significantly increased the chances that he'd gotten away. Dean refused to entertain the thought that Sam was lying by the road, drained of blood. Better he was either caught by the same group—he and Dean working together would surely figure a way to get out of this mess. They'd been in worse spots—or had escaped and was now hunting for Dean. He was also quite sure Sam wouldn't let him live this down for months, if ever.

Dean finally managed to cut himself free of the ropes and the tarp.

_Okay, now to find the trunk release_. _I'll have to figure out how to crosswire the sensor or they'll know when I pop the trunk. At least I hope this is a late enough model to have a trunk release in it._ With some relief, he found it. He searched for the sensor wires next, knowing that he could use his knife and some of the wires from one of the tail lights for the crosswiring.

_The sensor wires aren't even attached. Maybe my luck is changing. Of course, it's not going to do me a lot of good if we're booking down the road at 60 mph. Well, I can at least get a look as to where we are._

Gripping the latch so the trunk wouldn't fly open, he pressed the trunk release. Nothing happened.

_Maybe it's jammed?_ he wondered and went to work on the latch. Several scraped fingers later, he thought he'd successfully jimmied it, but when he tried to get the trunk open, it wouldn't budge.

"Dammit," Dean cursed softly. "Okay, okay. Sidepanels can be thin. Maybe I bust through a section of one of them."

He ran his hands over the sidepanel near the wheel well and found that it, and any area he had a prayer of busting through, had been reinforced. This obviously wasn't the vampires' first rodeo. They knew what the hell they were doing. He slowly searched the trunk, hunting for anything that might be useful as a weapon. He found some water and peanut butter crackers that he refused to touch, but otherwise the trunk was empty. There was no jack, no tools, nothing. They'd taken his leather coat, belt knife and belt, wallet, cell phone, and the pocket knife in his jeans. He had his small two-inch blade, which wouldn't do crap against a vampire. All he could hope for was, when they opened the trunk, he could surprise them. He'd figure out a plan beyond running like hell when he saw where he was.

Two hours dragged by with hardly a change in speed except to make some turns here and there.

_Crap,_ Dean thought. _They don't have a local nest. That's going to make it a hell of a lot harder for Sam to track me. Well, they ought to stop sometime around dawn and hole up in some barn or something. That could be to my advantage. At least I probably won't be on their home turf. They may not know the area any better than I will._

He ran through several possible scenarios in his head, analyzing and altering every strategy he could devise. He could hear some laughter and talking in the car, but the conversations were hard to make out over the blaring radio. His best estimate was that there were four vamps in the car and at least one was male and one female.

He couldn't believe he'd been nailed by a vampire hunting party. Of all the damned irony.

It was another hour before the car slowed. Dean heard the crunch of gravel under the wheels and the ride got rough for the next few minutes. They were obviously on some sort of long drive. Maybe they had reached their nest. He wondered if that would be good or bad. Good that Sam would have better luck at tracking them, assuming Sam was still free, or bad that Dean was in their home territory and there would surely be more than just the four vamps from which to try to escape.

Dean situated himself, ready to leap out of the trunk, ready to jump at anything in front of him, and got ready to run.

He heard the slide of metal on metal and the trunk cracked open. Dean shoved it open the rest of the way and tackled the person in front of him. He rolled off of the person, got his feet under him, and started to run. He heard the crack of a gun and his thigh exploded in fire. His leg gave and he fell. He struggled to get back to his feet, trying to ignore the agony of his leg.

"I'll shoot you again, this time in the other leg," a man's voice said.

Dean froze and slowly raised his hands, staying where he sat. He looked back over his shoulder. A blond man held a 0.38 special on him. Dean's eyes watered as the pain in his leg crescendoed. He didn't think the bone had been hit, but he also wasn't sure he could put any real weight on the leg.

"Where's my brother?" Dean asked.

"He was more trouble than he was worth and worked up the hunting party's appetite. He was left back where they caught you. Of course he was left lacking several pints of blood."

"You son of a bitch," Dean seethed and again struggled to get up. "Where is he?" He finally managed to push himself to his feet. The leg with the gunshot wound sent ribbons of fire up and down his leg. He knew he wouldn't get more than a few steps before it gave out on him but he felt less vulnerable on his feet.

The dark-haired girl, Suzanne, walked up next to the blond man. "What do you think, Thompson? Doesn't he just look like he'll last for weeks?"

Thompson smiled and nodded, the gun still pointed at Dean. "And he'd got spirit. That ought to be fun to break." He then yelled, "Hey Kate, bring the chains. Looks like this one's going to need them"

"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded and struggled forward a step. Dean had to know if Sam had gotten caught or not. Thompson only laughed.

"You!" a woman screeched. Dean looked in the direction of the voice and saw a woman charging him. He tried to turn, tried to brace himself, but she tackled him, knocking him to the ground and onto his wounded leg. The pain exploded in his leg and he hardly noticed the fists repeatedly hitting his face. The woman was dragged back by Suzanne and Janine.

"Where are the others?" she yelled at Dean.

Dean clawed through the pain as he tried to clear his vision and look at the woman Suzanne and Janine held.

"The other one got away," Janine told the woman. "Hell, he's probably still running, pissing his pants all the way home. The look on his face was just priceless when he saw my teeth."

The woman pulled herself free of Janine and Suzanne. "No! You idiots. They're hunters!"

The woman's familiar voice finally registered through Dean's pain-filled haze.

"Kate," he groaned softly. He wasn't just having a bad day. He was having the mother of all bad days.

"His father killed Luther!" Kate said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dean. She started to stalk forward but Suzanne grabbed her arm. "Let me go! He and his brother killed my family!"

"Calm down, Kate. Remember what Thompson's taught you."

Kate snarled at Suzanne but Suzanne flashed her teeth and backed her down. Kate gave a sullen nod and Suzanne released her.

"Yeah, quite a number that gun did on your boyfriend. Gonna do the same to you," Dean said and slowly pushed himself up to lean on one elbow. He was having trouble seeing out of his left eye; it was already swelling shut. It took all his concentration just to get through the pain and talk, but he decided it would be worth it. "My dad and brother will hunt your asses down. You all are in for a world of hurt." They didn't need to know that not only was his father dead, but that the vampire killing gun was gone.

Thompson's lips pursed as he studied Dean. "A hunter, eh? Well isn't that interesting," he said. "Charles!"

"Yeah," a man wearing Dean's leather jacket asked, coming out of the pre-dawn shadows.

"Tonight I want you and Janine to take the car. Since we have some hunters who will be looking for this one, why don't you take them on a merry little chase? Leave some discreet clues and keep them busy for as long as you can, but don't let them catch up to you."

Charles grinned. "Sounds like fun."

Kate turned to Thompson. "I want him. I want to make him pay."

Thompson glanced over at Suzanne, then his gaze returned to Kate. "Since he was Suzanne's catch, she gets to feed on him at least for a few days while you play with him. When she's done, well, he's all yours." He looked over at Suzanne who nodded her satisfaction with the deal.

"Oh, I'll keep him alive until he begs for death." She glared at Dean, picked up the chains from where she'd dropped them, then approached. Janine and Charles gripped Dean's upper arms and held him. He tried to pull away, but their grips were unbreakable and any movement of his leg was breath-taking anguish. Kate kicked him in his gunshot wound. Dean screamed, writhing in the vampires' grasps.

Kate fastened a shackle to each of Dean's wrists. Another vampire brought up a tree stump and gripped Dean's fingers and stretched his hand out, palm up, against the stump. Kate smiled at Dean and picked up a hammer and a large, two inch long pin, somewhat pointed on one end. His eyes widened and he tried to pull his hand free. She carefully placed the pin so it would go between the bones then she hammered it through his palm, delighting as he screamed. She fastened a ring through either ends of the pin, connected a chain to each ring, and then connected another chain from the ring to the shackle. She then did the same to the other hand.

She gave a nod to Charles and Janine as she took hold of the chains and dragged Dean toward the barn. The pins pulled against bone until it was torture, then the chains running from them to the shackles grew taut and the rest of Dean's weight was pulled by the shackles that bit painfully into the base of his hands. Dean tried to keep his wounded leg from bumping against the ground but everything became a blur of pain.

He clung with Winchester tenacity to the knowledge that his brother was alive and would be hunting for him. He vowed he'd do whatever it took to keep himself alive until Sam could get to him. Then he'd behead that bitch himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language and some violence.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 3_

Dean wasn't sure how long it had been. He knew several days had passed, he just didn't know if it was several like six or several like sixteen. He didn't think it had been much longer than a week or so, but feared he might be wrong. Still, he doubted he'd be alive if it had been working towards "weeks". He tried to count the times he'd been awake, tried to count the times Suzanne had fed on him or Kate had tortured him, but it was all a pain-smeared blur. His best guess said seven, maybe ten days. Where the hell was Sam?

Weighing the effort it would take to move against his demanding parched throat and very empty stomach, he gave in and attempted to push himself upright with his elbows and forearms. His arms shook with the exertion but he managed to sit up and get his back against the bars. His ribs, two of which he suspected were broken, were sharp knives of pain. The wounds on his back pressed against the cold metal and he winced, but he bit his lip to keep silent. Gingerly, he brought his hands in closer, protectively, to his chest, trying to be careful not to rattle the chains attached to the pins that punctured each hand. His hands were dull centers of pain, long dried blood flaking off now and again. With some concentration, he managed to twitch one finger on one hand, and two fingers on the other. He didn't have any real dexterity, but that didn't really matter because a goodly number of his fingers had been slowly, painfully, broken, thanks to darling Kate.

He looked at the bandages on the gunshot wound to his leg. He always had fresh bandages on it though he never recalled them being changed out. The leg still hurt, but not like it had. He'd like to peel off the bandages and get a look at it, but the last thing he needed was an infection in it. He slowly rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the soreness in them. When Kate took him for their quality time, his arms were pulled overhead and often he ended up collapsed, all of his weight on his shackled wrists, and in turn, his shoulders. He was really surprised he hadn't dislocated one of his shoulders by now. He studied the bruises and cuts the shackles had given the base of his hands. Like all his wounds, he'd have to say this for the vampires, they were fastidious about keeping them clean and tended. Somebody had even wrapped his ribs. It wasn't nearly as hard to take a deep breath. He let his head loll back against the bars. God, he hurt. He started to take stock of what hurt, then gave up. He wasn't sure there was any part of him that didn't.

Longingly he eyed the water and food that sat just outside the bars, just out of reach. Early on he'd tried to use his chains to drag the tray closer, but they'd let him work at it for ten minutes, only to take the food and water away from him. He had to _ask_ for them, ask for them _nicely_. His smart mouth had cost him nights of hunger and terrible thirst, and was only making him weaker. His brother would find him, dammit. He just had to keep alive long enough so there was someone to find. His stomach cramped with hunger.

Crap. Fine. He was so hungry and thirsty, he just didn't really care.

"Hey twinkle-toes," Dean rasped and shook one of his chains loudly. "C'mon, Dude, ain't it freaking feeding time at the zoo, yet?"

The blond man glanced over at him. "What do you say, Scum?"

Dean bit back the multiple retorts that sprang to mind. Instead he gritted out what he knew he had to, if he wanted the tray pushed within reach. "Please, Master Thompson, I would like some food and water."

The man grinned at him. "Well, maybe the cow can learn some manners."

Dean literally bit his tongue to keep from saying anything under his breath. He'd discovered the hard way that Tommy-boy had damned good hearing.

Thompson got up and nudged the tray to within Dean's reach. "What do you say, Bitch?" he demanded.

"Thank you Master Thompson for your kind generosity," Dean said slowly, hating every word coming out of his mouth. He let his eyes show his fury, which Thompson only laughed at.

Dean had to work at it, but he managed to get the cup of water in without spilling it. He had to hold it between the heels of his hands, and it was painful to do so, but he was so damned thirsty. After he drank half of the water, he looked at the piece of fried chicken and biscuit on the other side of the bars. Slowly, painfully, he got each inside in turn and after devouring the biscuit, ate every last scrap he could gnaw off the chicken bones. He finished off his water then, having quickly learned they wouldn't let him hoard anything. He set the cup back on the tray. His tongue still felt like it wanted to stick to the roof of his mouth. He sighed. _Not only am I going to behead bitchful Kate, but this bastard is second on my list._

Damn, he was still thirsty. Well, there was only one way to get more water.

"Thank you, Master Thompson," Dean said, watching the man sitting at the nearby table.

The man glanced at him and with a heavy sigh, got up, and refilled the cup of water.

Dean pulled the cup back in and emptied the cup.

"More?" Thompson asked.

Dean's brow lifted and he held the cup out hopefully. It was the first time Thompson had ever offered a third glass. Best he be pleasant about it.

"Yes, sir. Please." Dean said, more interested in the water than his annoyance at Thompson.

Thompson refilled the cup and then walked away. Dean savored the water slowly, trying to chase away the cotton that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his mouth. He hadn't much more than finished the water when a sudden hard yank on the chain attached to his right hand pulled him up against the bars, his right arm pulled through. His ribs shrieked agony at the sudden jerk. Suzanne gave an extra hard yank on the chain and Dean groaned as his shoulder ground into the bars. The dark-haired woman knelt by his arm and, with practice eased, cut off the bandages on his forearm with a knife. Dean clenched his jaw as she gave him a pleased and hungry look then buried her fangs deeply in his forearm. Dean choked back his cry of pain. He wouldn't give the bastards any more pleasure than he had to.

_She's third_, Dean thought to himself and pictured himself taking his machete and putting an end to the undead bitch. The light-headedness swept over him and he struggled to stay conscious, wondering as he always did if this might be the final time he drifted off. He was almost beginning to hope it might be.

He felt her teeth release his arm, and then her tongue cleaned away the last of the blood before she wiped the bite down with some liquid Dean figured was a mix of alcohol and iodine. She slipped a fresh bandage on his arm and then tossed in two drink boxes of orange juice and a small bag of cookies.

"Eat and drink up, little hunter. You must keep your strength up, especially for what's to come," Suzanne purred.

"Why? You sign me up for a marathon?" Dean asked and pulled his arm back through the bars. He winced and gently rubbed the fresh bandage. Damn their bites hurt.

"We had some delicious new food come in last night," Suzanne said as she stood up and stretched. "You're getting a bit old and stale, so I'm done with you. That means you're all hers now."

"Swell," Dean muttered. "I can't wait."

Dean reached a trembling hand toward the orange juice, but his vision went monochrome and the world went away.

The painful tug on his hands roused Dean from his stupor. He managed to get his feet under him as he was hauled out of his cage; his wounded leg still hurt, but he could put some weight on it now. He felt weak and everything hurt. There were noises and flashes of color around him but he couldn't focus enough to pick out anything specific. The pull on his hands stopped and he collapsed gratefully. Then the pull from the chains came from above and his ribs complained as his arms were pulled overhead. His hands began bearing his weight and he moaned; the shackles began to bite into his bruises and bloodied wrists and he forced himself to his feet. The pull stopped, but he couldn't sit down. All he wanted to do was sit down. Or lay down. He just wanted to go back to his nightmarish sleep. Even the nightmares were better than what he knew was coming.

Vengeful Kate.

His cheek stung where she slapped him but he hardly responded. It was a mosquito bite compared to his hands and ribs.

She was screaming something at him, then she punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, unable to take a deep breath, his ribs screaming pain. He gasped, trying to get oxygen as the pain wracked him further. His eyes watered and his knees gave. He finally got some shallow breaths in and got his feet back under him. She backfisted him next, and he tasted blood in his mouth. It felt like she'd loosened a tooth this time. He struggled to get some clarity and managed to shake away the cobwebs. She stood in front of him, staring at him with hatefilled eyes.

"Hello, Bitch," Dean said. "What game we playing today? Charades? Wait, don't tell me. I know. Two words. Two syllables each. Luther's Widow. Oh, wait a minute. That's not charades. Luther _was_ left rotting as road kill."

She hit him again in the face. He saw sparkles and laughed weakly. Hell, it had been worth it. "So whaddaya want this time, Bitch?" Dean said.

"I want you to die as slow and long and painful a death as I can possibly give to you."

"Not before my dad puts a bullet in your brain just like he did to Luther. Blam. Splat. Sizzle," Dean said and grinned broadly at her.

"Hard for him to do that when he can't find us. They've been chasing Charles across several different states. They'll never find you, Dean. You're mine. For as long as I want you. You're mine."

"You really ought to see someone about this stalking obsession of yours."

She turned her back on him.

Dean took the moment to let the pain come through. He was still struggling to get a good breath in. Hanging from his wrists just wasn't helping and he tried to get his feet under him better and get some of the weight off of his wrists.

Kate turned back around and approached him. She grabbed his hair and yanked his head back as she kissed him. Blood rushed into his mouth. His eyes widened and he tried to pull away from her.

_No,no,no,no,no,no, _his mind screamed. He used every last bit of energy to pull both feet off the floor and shove her away. The pain in his hands and ribs was excruciating. He spit the blood out, then tightened his stomach as hard as he could. He felt his stomach cramp and threw up what little was there. The pain from his ribs went beyond agony and for the barest of moments Dean just wanted to die. The bile seemed to burn away most of the blood in his mouth, but there were still places where his mouth tingled and he could feel a strange sensation wash over him.

She walked up to him, her hips swaying, blood still dripping from her mouth. "Don't you want to be with me, Dean?" she asked.

Dean felt his resolve weaken, but shook his head, fighting her influence with everything he had. "I told you before, Bitch, I draw the line at necrophilia." He gave her a weak grin.

When she ran her fingers along his bruised cheek, he shuddered at her touch. Oh, God, did he want her to touch him. _No!_ he screamed at himself. He instead imagined himself with the colt, putting it to her forehead and blowing her freaking brains out.

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "It doesn't matter to me, Dean. I'll kill you slowly whether you're man or vampire. Either will be just as delicious. Either way, you'll eventually be my dog on a leash, grateful for any attention I give you. Either way, you'll eventually die."

"Go to Hell," Dean growled.

"Oh, I plan to take you there. A little tiny piece at a time," she said, then exposed her fangs and bit deeply into his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 4_

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. He'd lost the trail of the vampires three days ago. They'd just vanished and by now, they could be ten states away. Sam stared blankly at the hotel's yellow walls.

He had stayed on their trail for nine days but never managed to catch up to them. He'd repeatedly found signs that Dean was still alive; a receipt from their stop in Knoxville, a folded up cocktail napkin from Wichita with some waitress' phone number on it, a piece of the lining of his leather jacket. One time he even found his own name scratched into a post. Something about it all didn't feel right, but Sam couldn't put his finger on it and he wanted desperately to believe the clues had been left by his brother, ignoring that nagging fear that he had been led on a wild goose chase.

When he lost the trail he went back repeatedly to the last place he knew they had been, the outskirts of Atlanta. They could have gone any direction from there. Sam feared Dean's time was rapidly running out. According to Daniel Elkins journal, the longest a typical nest would keep someone alive was two weeks, though in a few instances, they had kept people alive for much, much longer. Then there was always the possibility they might decide to turn Dean. Sam shuddered at the thought of beheading his own brother.

He never should have left him.

Sam continued to stare at the yellow wall, absently studying the periodic brown streaks of cockroach crap and small flecks of unknown dried fluids. Two days after Dean had gone missing, he'd called Ellen. She alerted several hunters to be on the watch but no one had come up with anything. He'd called Missouri a few days ago after he'd lost the trail, but she wasn't much help beyond saying that she felt Dean was still alive.

Sam pulled out his cell phone and opened the phone book, slowly scrolling through the names. He paused at the name as he had for the past two days. He didn't know if she'd help for something like this. She owed Dean almost as much as Sam, though, and maybe that would be enough. At this point, he didn't have anything to lose and his options—well, hell, he was out of options, plain and simple. Why couldn't his damned psychic ability work to find his brother? No, he decided, that would be bad seeing as how he only had death visions. Best he not have a vision of Dean in this particular instance. He looked at the name once more and punched the "1" and then "send".

A sleepy sounding voice answered the phone. "Yes?"

"Lenore?" Sam asked hopefully. He couldn't be sure from the one word answer if it was her or not.

"Who is this?"

"Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Sam…Oh, hello, Sam. Yes, it's me." She sounded more awake and he could hear her moving, then heard her yawn.

"I'm sorry I woke you. It's 6 pm where I am. I guess—I guess I just didn't think that you would be asleep."

"Oh, I was going to get up in four hours anyhow." She yawned again. "From the sound of your strained voice, I'd guess you didn't call to exchange social pleasantries. Who's in trouble, us or you?"

Sam swallowed hard. "My brother, Dean. He's missing. He's been taken by some vampires, a Suzanne and Janine. We were in Eastern Tennessee off of state route 74."

"Were you hunting them?" she asked, an edge coming into her voice.

"No. We stopped to help them. It was 2:30 am, cold and rainy, and they had a flat tire. They were—it was a trap."

He heard her muffled laughter. "I'm sorry," she said, then laughed again. "I shouldn't laugh, it's just the complete irony that the two decent vampire hunters out there get caught in a vampire trap," she said. "I assume you're okay?"

"Yes, but I had to leave Dean. There were too many and Dean was knocked out and I never should have left him. I should have tried harder. I should have tried something!" Sam said, the frustration and fear coming into his voice. "I've lost the trail, Lenore. I've put off calling you, hoping I could pick it back up, but I don't know what else to do. Please, Lenore, I just want my brother back. I was hoping that maybe you might be able to help, or offer some advice, something," Sam pleaded. "I'm out of ideas and I'm afraid my brother is running out of time."

He heard her sigh followed by long seconds of silence. He practically held his breath, afraid she would deny him.

"I owe you and your brother my life, but especially you. Where are you?" she asked.

"Just north of Atlanta," Sam said, relieved and grateful.

He heard her talking to someone, arguing with them. She came back on almost five minutes later. "Okay, we can be there about 6 am. We'll do what we can for you and your brother, but we can't make any promises."

"I understand," Sam said, feeling the first glimmer of hope in days. He gave her the address of the hotel and his room number. Once he hung up, he looked around and began to reorganize his research for her to look at when she arrived. Sometime during the night, Sam fell asleep, sprawled across the papers.

Sam jerked awake with the knock on the door. He looked blearily at his watch. It was 6:17. He wasn't really sure if that was AM or PM, and walked over to the door. He opened it cautiously. Lenore, her mate Eli, and a brown-haired man and blonde woman stood outside his door. The two unknowns eyed Sam warily.

"Hello, Sam," Lenore said and gave him a smile.

She'd cut her hair since he'd seen her last. He liked the short bob on her. It made her look even younger and complimented her high cheekbones. Eli, meanwhile, had let his brown hair grow and it was pulled back in a queue, wrapped in black leather.

"Lenore! Thank God you're here." Sam ran his hand through his hair and stepped back to let them in.

"God has little to do with it, Sam," she said. She brushed the back of her hand over his unbruised cheek as she walked into the room, followed by the others. Eli gave Sam a respectful nod. The other two ignored him.

She looked around the dingy room, her gaze scanning the papers and photos strewn everywhere. Her gaze lingered on the two machetes lying on the desk and the jar of deadman's blood beside them, then she sat down in the chair. Eli cleared off a corner of the desk and sat on it.

Sam winced and gathered the blades and blood and set them in his duffle lying on the floor by the bathroom. He knew the two strangers' eyes were watching his every move. "Sorry. I didn't know if they might come hunting me."

Lenore tilted her head in a nod. "I understand, Sam. I know you and Dean are not like the others. So you said two of the vampires' names were Suzanne and Janine. What else do you know?"

Sam grabbed his cup of cold coffee from the desk then sat down on one of the beds. He wished he'd had a chance to get some fresh coffee. His mind still felt a bit befuddled. "Well, like I told you, there were at least eight in the group and they had a 1999 dark blue Saturn, Tennessee plates, stolen. I think they also had a mid-sixties Mustang, dark in color. They chased me in it, but I never got a really good look at it. I've followed their trail through parts of North and South Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia."

"Shelly?" Lenore asked the woman who'd accompanied them.

"Suzanne dark haired, Janine a blonde or redhead?" Shelly asked. Her voice was soft and deeper than Sam expected.

Sam nodded. "Blonde."

Shelly leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. "Tell me everything that happened, everything that was said."

Sam recounted that dreadful night on the road. When he finished, Shelly glanced first at her male companion who nodded, then she looked over at Lenore. "Yeah, it sounds like Thompson's family all right."

Lenore grimaced.

"What?" Sam asked, concerned.

Eli spoke up. "They're long distance hunters. The hunting parties usually don't nest; they catch their food anywhere within a day's drive of their nest then head back home with it in their trunk. When one of their food can't feed them anymore, they go on another food run."

"Food. You mean people," Sam said.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah."

Shelly had been eyeing the bed Sam wasn't sitting on, and decided to give in. She flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and laced her hands behind her head. "There won't be just eight He has a family of 20 or 25, depending. There's been as many as 40 there before." She twisted her head and looked at Sam. "And he likes his food to do tricks."

"Tricks?" Sam asked.

She saw the concerned look in his eyes. "Oh, don't worry. Thompson doesn't swing _that_ way. He likes them to beg for the food and water. Call him master. And he likes his chains and shackles, and yanking the food around. If they're keeping your brother for food, he'll live so long as he does what he's told, and until they've simply fed on him too much for him to stay alive. Thompson can keep his food alive for weeks, if he wants. They are fairly diligent about keep their food fed and watered."

Dean doing what he was told, even if it meant staying alive? How likely was that? Dean's disdain for any authority figure that wasn't their father—Sam felt sick.

"Do you think you can find Thompson?" Sam asked, looking at each vampire in turn.

The one vampire whom Sam didn't know sat down by Shelly and gripped her shoulder. They passed a private look between them, then Shelly sat up and both turned toward Lenore. Sam watched the silent exchange curiously.

"Sam and Dean rescued me from a hunter," Lenore said to them. "And Sam, he gave me blood when I was so poisoned by that hunter that I didn't think I'd see another sunset. He helped our family escape, and apparently," she looked at Sam and smiled, "has told some of the hunters that our family doesn't kill humans to live. We've been passed by twice by hunters since then. We owe them a debt. Detroit, Shelly, I know you weren't with us when Sam saved my life, but you are part of our family now. That debt is your burden, too."

"I can find Thompson," Detroit finally, reluctantly, said. "I can tell you, he's not that far away. Two hundred miles, give or take."

"How do you know?" Sam asked, feeling hope flicker inside him.

"You always know when you're close to your sire," Detroit said. He kept his eyes locked on Shelly's face. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"He turned you?" Sam asked.

Detroit gave a jerk of a nod. "Yes. I was shot up in a drive by up in Detroit. His family was passing by and found me. I begged them not to let me die, that I didn't want to die. I knew what he was and still I asked him to bring me over." His voice edged toward frantic. "I just wasn't ready, and he thought it was too good to pass up—"

Shelley pulled him into a hug, quieting him.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Shelly said softly, "He was on his way to becoming a Catholic priest. Thompson turned him, then made him feed on kids and pregnant moms, and anything and everything he could that would further torment him. He didn't plan to keep Detroit as part of the family. He just wanted to torture him for a few years. You can torture a vampire much more effectively than you can a human, especially the first few years when your conscience can still bother you. And we heal quickly, allowing a lot more physical damage to be done." She ran a hand over Detroit's shaggy hair. "I hated what Thompson was doing to him. It wasn't right. I knew about Lenore so Detroit and I and we managed to track her down, I guess soon after you two met." She twisted her head and looked at Sam with dark hatred in her eyes. "I'll be glad to help you behead that son-of-a-bitch."

"We don't kill our own," Eli snapped at her.

She turned her flashing eyes on Eli. "Bullshit. He does. Sometimes there are people that just need and deserve a good killing. Thompson is one of them. He's a sadistic bastard. I've been with ten different families through my years. His was the only one where I despised every minute of my time there. He and Suzanne don't have one damned redeeming quality other than their ability to survive. They take in any family that survives hunters and feeds their fury. I mean, hell, when Kate and Darlene came to us, they were scared and lost. He took them in and promised to teach them hunt down the hunters who killed their family. He started their training all right. They hunt, torture and kill entire families. They turn members one at a time. The families feed on their own, and then? Thompson and Suzanne, they starve the newly turned." She stopped her rant when Detroit clutched her tighter, burying his head deeper in the crook of her neck.

The cooler had drained from Sam's face.

"Sam," Lenore asked curiously.

"Shelly, did you say 'Kate'?" Sam asked. "She wears a silver cross, dark hair, slutty dresser?"

"You know her?" Shelly asked, surprised.

"My father killed her mate. Dean and I killed a lot of her family when we rescued their prisoners—their food."

The look she gave him was filled with sorrow. "Well then Sam, you don't have to worry about them killing Dean anytime soon. You might have to worry about if he's still sane when you find him, and not missing any pieces. But in all likelihood? She'll turn him. She can cause him much more pain if he's a vampire than if he were human."


	5. Chapter 5

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language and some implied violence.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 5_

He felt giddy. Although pain still emanated from various parts of his body, he realized much of it had dulled. He knew his leg hardly hurt—though why it ought to hurt he didn't remember—and his hands hurt a lot less, too. He stared at his hands. Both his palms had puncture wounds clear through them but the wounds seemed to be rapidly healing. He wondered how'd he'd gotten the punctures but couldn't remember. Shackles and chains were on his wrists but that didn't seem odd to him. They'd always been there. But why were his hands slick with blood?

_Blood._

He licked hungrily at the blood on his hands. The liquid was like ambrosia. After cleaning his hands of most of the red liquid he noticed that the front of his shirt was splattered with blood. He furrowed his brow, confused. In front of him was a woman laying on a tall wooden table, a very dead woman who looked like she'd been gnawed on by wild dogs. He moved closer to her, trying to remember something, anything about her. He gently touched her pretty face and was surprised to find it so very cold. Did he know her? He looked at his hands again. Fingers. Weren't his fingers broken? He slowly made a fist with his right hand, wincing as the wound in his palm complained. The fingers didn't quite work right, but he wasn't entirely certain they were broken, at least not anymore.

A cool hand ran across the back of his neck. "Feeling better, Dean?"

He turned and looked at her. She was stunningly beautiful and he wanted to make love to her. Forever.

"Yes," he said, his voice dreamy and distant, his eyes shining with happiness and adoration of the one before him.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Beautiful," Dean said, smiling dazedly at her. He admired her tight-fit black shirt and the silver cross that rested between her breasts. A faded denim miniskirt clutched her pleasant hips and had rivets that flashed like her dark eyes.

She laughed, showing her perfect, white teeth. "Dean, I'm Kate."

"Kate," Dean repeated. "Hello, Kate. You're beautiful."

The world suddenly swam before his eyes and he fell to his knees and onto the hard-packed earth of the barn. The giddiness faded just as suddenly and Dean snapped fully aware. He tasted the blood in his mouth, smelled it in the air, and felt the disgust and nausea twist his stomach. Oh, God, no. He'd killed that woman. He'd killed her by slicing her wrist and drinking in as much blood as he possibly could. The others had come and finished her off, but he should have found a way to protect her. She begged him to let her go, not to hurt her, and he'd just stared down at her, grabbed her wrist, cut it, and started to drink. Mercifully perhaps, she had passed out just as the rest of the vampires descended on her. Dean ran his tongue over his gums. No fangs. He didn't have fangs yet.

_Small freaking consolation that. I didn't need fangs to drink that girl half dry,_ Dean thought, his fury equal to any bloodlust he'd felt. His lips curled into a snarl as he exploded from the ground and slammed his fist into Kate's face.

She fell back but kept her feet. Grinning, she danced further back from him, putting the dead woman between them. She flicked open a pocketknife and gashed her own arm with its blade. Dean feinted right, then dove left, around the corpse. He took another swing at Kate but barely clipped her chin. It was then that the smell assailed him, a smell of salt water and wine, of sweat-drenched passion and promise. His eyes went to her wound and he froze.

"Do you want it, Dean?" she asked, smug arrogance in her every word as she tensed her arm muscles and the blood flowed more freely. Three long rivulets dribbled down her forearm, their droplets falling to the ground in a slow, steady splatter.

Dean's mouth was slightly open. He tried to tear his eyes away from the ruby red blood dripping from her arm. _No! He wanted to kill her! He'd behead her then cut the rest of her up into little tiny pieces, but none of it before he'd burn her. He'd listen to her screams and delight in them the way she had delighted in his. He'd kill her, he'd kill her…oh, the precious blood. So very delicious. He felt his body quiver with desire and need. No matter what she asked, he would serve her to get that crimson ambrosia. _

…_No! _ Dean screamed in his mind, denying the voice that begged for the blood.

"Get down on your knees and ask me, your mistress, for it."

Dean slowly lowered himself to his knees. "Please, Mistress Kate," he whispered, "Please," he begged, all thoughts of attacking her washed away by the sight of the delectable blood running down her arm.

She stepped forward and offered him her arm. He grabbed it hungrily and drank as if he were dying of thirst. After a handful of seconds, she pulled her arm away. He reached towards it longingly, desperately.

"Please, I'm so thirsty," Dean moaned. "Please Mistress, please." The blood she'd given him barely quenched his craving.

"No, no, Dean. Too much, too soon, will kill you. And we couldn't have that. It takes time for your body to adjust, for your body to die as the virus takes over. The virus has to multiply, has to start to change you and take over the process of keeping your body functioning." She watched him, seemingly waiting for something to happen.

The world reeled before him and he fell onto all fours. He felt his heart thump wildly in his chest and waves of pain rippled through him as he collapsed to the ground, writhing.

She clapped her hands with glee. "I knew it would be soon," she said and savored every cry he gave.

As the pain assailed him, snatches of the past days trickled back to him. He remembered her kissing him, putting blood in his mouth. He remembered spitting it out. The next day she took no chances; she intended to turn him. The others held Dean while she again put blood in his mouth. It was swallow or suffocate. He tried to choose the latter but when the world started to go dark, he swallowed the blood. Later that day and again the next morning, it was the same. The next time when she offered him the blood he took it willingly— no, not willingly, but it was a siren's call he couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried. He had to have the blood. Just like this time.

A few feedings later the terrible hunger had started. The vampire virus, she said, needed fresh blood to feed on, to multiply. He found himself desperate, willing to do anything when he smelled blood. The bloodlust was forming in him and he was becoming just what he loathed, just what he'd hunted. Evil. There was no other word to describe someone who'd drain a scared, young woman of her blood with hardly a thought beyond how delicious the blood was and how much he needed it. He remembered how much he'd enjoyed feeding on that woman and he shuddered, knowing he'd do it again if the bloodlust was upon him. He knew, too, that any rescue Sam might be trying was already too late. Sam would rescue Dean only to ensure Dean never hurt anyone else again.

The waves of pain receded and he lay on the ground gasping. "What did you do to me, Bitch?"

"Oh, it's just the next step toward your transformation, Dean," she said, slowly circling him where he lay, her black boots scuffing the dirt. "The virus is beginning to feed on your living cells now, beginning to invade them and take them over." She kicked him hard in the ribs.

Dean cried out as he curled into a ball, trying to protect his ribs from being kicked again. He hadn't felt any ribs crack, but they were still tender and healing from his previous injuries.

"Get up," she ordered him.

Dean found himself rising to his feet. He tried to make a fist, tried to pull back his arm to punch her again, but he couldn't. His arms hung limply at his side, beyond his control.

"Are you mine?" she asked sweetly.

"Anything you want," Dean found himself saying while vehemently denying those words in his mind.

She gave him a long, slow smile. "When you are almost fully a vampire, but still under my control, do you know what I'm going to have you do?" She ran her hand slowly through his hair and along his chin.

He shook his head as he shivered in delight at her touch.

"I'm going to release you to rejoin your brother and father. And then you'll bring them back here to us. And then I'll have you slowly drain them and let their blood help finish your transformation. It'll be your own flesh and blood that you'll first use your new vampiric teeth on. It will be their blood that makes you one of us. Do you know what I'll do then?"

"No," he said quietly. He took silent pleasure that she thought his father was still alive and still a danger.

"Then I'll turn them. First your brother, Sam. Making your father watch in horror as his beloved sons kill time and again innocent delicious children and whole families. I'll make sure he survives long enough to watch both you and Sam die of starvation, screaming your agony."

She placed her hands on either side of his face and gazed into his eyes, her own glowing with delighted triumph. "I'll lock you in your cages. I'll feed you rats and cats. For awhile. And then eventually, I'll let you starve. Do you know what a painful death it is for a vampire to starve? It's agony. To have the bloodlust and not be able to feed? Maybe, at the very end, I'll use that little magic gun on you so you'll experience the same pain that Luther experienced when he died. And then I'll do this to Sam. And then to your father. And you want me to do this, don't you, because you are my dog on a leash. Say it."

"I am your dog on a leash," Dean repeated, fighting to stop every word. He knew that as every day passed it was becoming more and more true, and he just wanted to crumple and die. His destiny as hunter was gone. His future was her lap dog, his brother's killer, and then a long, slow, agonizing death at Vengeful Kate's hands. He knew he would grovel, beg, or denigrate himself to any level for the blood. He felt the tear slide down his cheek as he stared at his mistress, waiting for her next order.


	6. Chapter 6

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language and some implied violence. This chapter could be rated much gentler but I'll leave the rating stand because of the other chapters.

Bonus! This chapter could easily be broken in half as it's twice as long as my other chapters, but I didn't really see the sense in dividing it. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! Reviews are the happy-happy joy-joys of my fanfic writing. Please comment!

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 6_

Sam hadn't asked. He'd been afraid to because he already knew what the answer was. Once a human drank vampire blood, they were turned. He'd read Elkin's journal cover-to-cover and no way had ever been found to return them to human. Sam could only pray that Kate hadn't yet turned Dean.

They'd left the hotel in Atlanta as soon as the sun set that night. Detroit and Lenore rode with Sam in the Impala and Shelly and Eli followed in their Protégé. The first three hours had been straight driving, heading northwest. As they grew nearer to their target, Detroit struggled to find Thompson. They'd long since turned off the highway and they drove back and forth across old country roads, Detroit directing Sam down this road or that, sometimes indicating they needed to back-track, sometimes confirming they were getting closer. Sam could tell Detroit was having a harder and harder time of sensing where Thompson was as the night wore on.

"Sam," Lenore said from the back seat, "pull into that little motel up ahead."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Is something wrong?" he asked as he slowed the Impala and clicked on the turn signal. He swallowed back his yawn. He'd run out of coffee hours ago and stayed awake by sheer force of will and a desperate hope of finding Dean this very night. He didn't want to think his brother would have to endure yet another day in the clutches of Kate.

She laid a hand on Detroit's shoulder. "Detroit can't keep this up without food. We didn't have a chance to eat before we left for your hotel. There was a farm not too far from here. We can take one of the cows and that should get us by for a few days."

Detroit gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Lenore. I am getting hungry, and," he paused and glanced over at Sam, "you're really not helping."

"What?" Sam asked. "What am I doing wrong?" He'd been trying to keep quiet and follow any order Detroit gave him.

Detroit gave a wan smile. "You're human. You smell really, really good right now."

"Would…would it help if you had some human blood, Detroit?" Sam asked as he made the turn into the gravel parking lot and pulled into a spot beside an old Chevy pickup. A soft cloud of white dust kicked up by the tires sparkled in the headlights.

Detroit shook his head firmly. "No. I will not drink human blood ever again. I'll choke on anything else's blood, but never again on a human. I'll die first," he said. "But it doesn't change the fact that you smell like a feast and it's really beginning to distract me."

"He's young," Lenore said and squeezed Detroit's shoulder before letting her hand drop away. "He'd drain you without meaning to, Sam. He barely has control of his bloodlust. Even if he were willing to feed on you, the withdrawals from drinking human blood combined with trying to go back to feeding on animal blood makes it quite an ordeal and to put him through that again so soon after he came over would be cruel."

Sam looked back at Lenore as he put the car in park and shut off the engine. "When you drank my blood…"

She smiled gently. "Yes, Sam. It was a bitch. Eli got me through it because he knew how determined I am for us to keep this way of life."

"But you only took as much as you needed from me. You didn't drink that much, not really."

She solidly met his hazel gaze. "No, Sam. I took far more than I actually needed."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and sudden doubt came into his eyes.

She chuckled at his concern. "Be glad I'm in control of my bloodlust or you wouldn't be here now. It's foolish to offer to a vampire permission to feed. If we're well fed, it's easy enough to only take a bit. If we're desperate, we'll kill you, whether we mean to or not. The bloodlust is very hard to control, even for older vampires. It's like asking you not to breathe."

"If they turn Dean," Sam began, his voice wavering. "Do you think he can control it? Could he learn . . . to be like you?" _Tell me I won't have to kill my brother._

Lenore didn't answer as she looked out the window and gave a nod to Eli when the Protégé pulled into a parking spot beside them.

"Lenore?" Sam asked softly. Others had done it. Why did she think Dean couldn't?

"You have to make me a promise," she said, still looking out the window. She raised a hand to Eli, indicating he should stay in the car.

"Anything," Sam said, confusion and trepidation coloring his face.

"You must promise me that you'll never tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

Sam gave a half shrug and nodded. "Okay. My word."

"I mean it, Sam. You can't record this in your hunter's book. You can't tell another soul, except for Dean."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I promise, Lenore. Whatever it is, I'll keep it secret. And I'll make sure Dean does, too."

She gave a heavy sigh and turned to face him. Her look became dark and pained and her words came reluctantly. "If we get to him soon enough, you may be able to bring Dean back to human."

"But I thought there was no returning from vampirism," Sam said, shocked. "Everything I've read says one drink and you're done. You're turned." Feelings of elation mixed with his fear. Was there really a way to save his brother if Kate had turned him? He waited for Lenore to say more, holding his breath, praying it wasn't a rumor she'd heard, but hard fact, and that she knew how to save his brother if it came to that.

"And we would prefer hunters think that," Lenore said. Her gaze dropped from Sam and she stared at her hands. "If they believe vampires can be returned to human, they'll ignore the limited window of opportunity and try to regain those long past any hope. In the process, they'll cause terrible suffering. We'd rather die quickly than have some misguided do-gooder torture us for an unrealistic hope of bringing a turned vampire back to human."

Sam twisted in the seat so he could see her more easily. The parking lot lights shone bleakly, highlighting only half of Lenore's face and made her pale skin almost translucent.

"Limited window of opportunity. How limited? Hours? Days? Weeks?" Sam asked anxiously. _Let it be weeks. Please let it be weeks,_ he thought desperately.

When Lenore remained silent, Detroit spoke up. "It depends," he said. "It depends on how strong and how healthy the person is."

"For some," Lenore finally said, "one drink of our blood is enough; they cannot be returned to human. Others can fight it for a short period of time." Her gaze came back to Sam's. "Our best understanding of what we are suggests we are a kind of half-breed demon. We're what we were in life, but the demon part of us keeps the body young and functioning. Most quickly let go of their human sensibilities and embrace the demon; we'd go crazy if we didn't."

"How do you become part demon? Is it like being possessed?" Sam asked.

"Akin to it, I suppose. Vampirism is a demonic virus. A human is fed limited quantities of vampiric blood over a few weeks. The human immune system can sometimes fight off at least part of the virus in the first few feedings, and in turn, fight off the demonic control. By the next few feedings, the demon part usually has enough of a foothold to cause a craving for more virus, more vampiric blood. Once enough virus is established in someone's system, the hunger begins and that hunger quickly escalates to the bloodlust. Once the bloodlust starts, the virus is beginning to overwhelm the immune system and the virus demands fresh blood to allow it to multiply. Then it begins to take over the body's systems, and begins to kill cells only to replace them with its own. As it tends to start with the nervous system and hence the functioning of the vital organs, the process is painful." Lenore hesitated and her voice grew softer as she continued to explain. "Deadman's blood poison's us because the virus feeds on cells that are decomposing and no longer associated with life, which in turn kills the virus."

"That's why you can't feed on blood like at a blood bank?"

"We can, but only if it's within a few hours of being drawn. Otherwise, though it doesn't hurt us like deadman's blood, the virus can't use it for sustenance. For a full vampire, the virus is what keeps the body functioning. Kill enough of the virus, kill the vampire. The virus is very hard to kill and the bloodlust the virus brings forth in its attempt to survive is very powerful."

"But if you feed a newly turned vampire deadman's blood—" Sam began, realizing what she was suggesting.

She gave him a half-smile, not surprised he'd jumped to the right conclusion. "Yes, you'll kill the virus. But the virus releases a toxin when it dies which is why it's so painful to us. Too much virus in the system, too many cells already converted, too much toxin released, and the vampire dies as well."

Sam chewed over her words. "So why can't the virus feed on the vampire's own blood?"

Detroit raised an eyebrow. "Could you fend off starvation by eating your own flesh?"

Sam nodded his understanding. "What about a transfusion? Wouldn't that help flush the virus out of the system?" He looked between the two, waiting for an answer.

Lenore shook her head. "It's an all you can eat buffet for the virus. That's one of the strategies tried by so-called-rescuers, and all it does is strengthen the virus. It's also one of the reasons it's widely believed there is no return from vampirism. The only way to kill the virus is with deadman's blood and starvation. Holy water can help as well."

"I didn't think holy water hurt you," Sam said, surprised.

"Splash it on us, and we only get wet. If we drink it, we get some unpleasant burning and indigestion. If we drink enough of it, it gets into the body's system and starts working on the virus," Lenore said.

Sam sat in silence. With just a few feedings and it could be too late for Dean. _No. I refuse to accept that as a possibility. Dean's stronger than that._ He dreaded the answer, but he had to know. "When's this window of opportunity end? How much time can pass before a newly turned vampire can't survive returning to human?"

"A week, maybe a week and a half," Lenore said. "Some very healthy, very strong, _might_ survive at two weeks, though twelve days is the longest I've heard of. By three weeks the vampiric teeth have begun to form and by six weeks, the vampire teeth are usable for feeding."

Sam felt his stomach clench. It was already thirteen days. If Kate had turned Dean immediately, it may already be beyond the window. Why had Sam waited to call Lenore? He should have called her as soon as he figured out the vampires weren't taking Dean to a nearby nest. His reluctance to involve Lenore may have cost Dean his humanity. Even if they did find him and he was being turned, would he help or hinder any rescue attempt?

"During this period of transformation, are they still themselves?" Sam asked. Would Dean still be fighting it off, or would he be unable to do anything to stave off the demon?

"Until a vampire can feed himself, he's pretty much under control of his sire," Detroit said. A tormented look came into his face. His voice had grown quiet, and a faint tremor came into it. "What ever his sire orders him to do, he'll do. So long as he needs fresh vampiric blood to continue the transformation, the virus will force the person to obey. He'll do things that …" Detroit swallowed hard and continued, "…well, let's just say I don't really like looking at myself in the mirror every evening. I still have nightmares over the ones I killed because Thompson ordered me to."

"But it wasn't your fault," Sam said.

Detroit looked over at Sam, his eyes lost in the shadows cast by the street lights, "Granted, I couldn't stop myself. But it's the pleasure I took in feeding from them, the way I savored every drop as they died. No confession I make is enough to scour those feelings from me, or take that taint from my soul. As I lay dying in the street I turned my back on God when I should have had faith in him."

"Maybe," Sam said, "God put the vampires there at your shooting so you could save Shelly from them and bring her over to a better way of life. So you could help me save my brother. Dean and I are hunters. If—_when_ he gets back on his feet, he'll go on to save a lot of lives, lives that otherwise would be lost."

Detroit softly chuckled. "They do say He works in mysterious ways, but that would be above and beyond, I think. Still, I hope you're right, Sam. I hope I can help save your brother and in doing so, find some redemption for the things I've done."

"Sam," Lenore said, "if Dean has had any number of feedings, attempting to bring him back will be excruciatingly painful for him. He'll suffer deeply and may well die, regardless."

Sam slowly nodded. "I understand, but I'm sure Dean will want to try, no matter the risks." Sam pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the car door. "I'll get us two rooms while you and your family get your dinner."

He got out of the car and slowly walked toward the desk, his mind buzzing with teeter-tottering hopes and fears.

It took Detroit half the next night, but he finally narrowed the location down to a valley with fifty or so homes spread out on spacious farms. He couldn't get a more precise direction beyond that. With no other alternative, the two vehicles split up and drove the roads. An hour later, Lenore answered her phone.

"Yes, Eli?" she said. "Yes. Okay. We'll meet you there." She closed her cell phone and slid it back into her pocket.

Sam gripped the wheel tightly. "They found the nest?" Sam asked hopefully.

Lenore smiled. "Yes. Shelly smells the family and there's a farm with its lights on at three in the morning."

Sam briefly closed his eyes, relieved. _I'm coming, Dean. Hang in for just a few more hours._

"Where?"

Lenore nudged Detroit and pointed at the map. Detroit unfolded it and held it up for her. She studied it a minute then pointed. "Eli wants to meet with us here. The farm is up the road about two miles from there. We're here," she put her finger on the map, "right now."

Sam looked at where she pointed. "And we're going where?"

She indicated the spot.

"I'll navigate," Detroit told Sam. "Take the next right turn."

Twenty minutes later they saw Eli at the side of the road, waving him down a dirt drive. Sam pulled the Impala in and saw the Mazda pulled off the drive, back near some mountain laurel. Sam parked the car next to theirs and they gathered together at the Impala. All eyes went to Sam.

"Do you have a plan?" Lenore asked him.

Sam raked his fingers through his hair. He sighed as he recalled scouring Elkin's journal for viable strategies against a big nest. Elkins stressed time and again it was best to let sleeping vampires lay for as long as possible. Once they were awake, things got fast moving and violent. Elkins preferred taking vampires out a few at a time. Even as great a vampire hunter as he was, he wouldn't have gone up against such a sizable nest. He'd come across two such nests and had opted to either call in help, or pick them off a little at a time.

"I was a expecting a small nest, planned to go in and grab Dean in the daylight, then get the hell out. Since you told me I might be dealing with twenty-five to forty," he looked at Shelly, "combined with Dean potentially being turned, I've been considering a lot of options. I still don't have a better idea than trying to go in in the middle of the day to break Dean out. If he's turned, he won't want to come and I'll have to knock him out before he wakes the others and I'll have to carry him out. If he's not turned, I doubt he'll be in any shape to walk out of there. I'd appreciate backup if you're willing. Unless you've got any suggestions, some vampire rules that you could use that might help me get Dean out?" He looked to Lenore hopefully.

She slowly shook her head. "Families that don't feed on humans are looked down upon and they'll be able to smell our last meal wasn't human. We also aren't as strong as they are, for the same reason. Kate has full rights to claim Dean. If it had been you, I could have gone in and claimed you as mine since I've fed on you before. I might have been able to push it and get you free, but," she shrugged helplessly, "I can't with Dean."

"He saved your life. That doesn't count for anything?" Sam asked, trying to reign in his frustration.

"But he's also killed vampires. The scorecard isn't balanced," Eli said. "He killed some of Kate's family. He killed one of ours." His eyes grew dark and his voice had taken on a rough quality. Conrad had been his best friend for years and it still galled him that they owed these brothers anything. The hunters had celebrated after Conrad's death. He remembered Sam tied to the chair and Lenore talking to him, trying to convince him they didn't feed on humans while Eli had wanted nothing more than to rip Sam's throat out.

"We didn't' know there were vampires like you," Sam protested.

"And when you learned there were and accepted it," Lenore said, giving a patient smile to Eli, "you helped up."

Eli ground his teeth and gave a nod. "I know," he said. He sighed and the anger in his face drained away. Sam had proven himself an ally. But damn, he still missed Conrad.

"If Dean's been turned, how hard is it going to be to deal with him? Will he still be himself? Will he fight to the death to stay with his sire?"

"The vampire in him will not want to leave and will fight you. You won't be able to trust him or anything he says," Shelly said.

Sam frowned. "If he were to drink another vampire's blood, could the new vampire hold any sway over him?"

"Possibly," Lenore said thoughtfully, nodding slowly to herself. "It will depend how many times he's fed from his sire. The older the vampire, the stronger the virus. Convincing him to feed from another vampire won't be easy. During those first weeks, a vampire is extremely loyal to their sire." She looked at Shelly. "Do you have any idea how old Kate is?"

"Twenty or thirty years old I'd guess, from some of the things she's said." Shelly said.

"Lenore? How old are you?" Sam asked hopefully.

Lenore fixed her gaze on him. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?"

Sam flushed. "I'm sorry, I was just wondering—"

Lenore laughed at his consternation. "I came from the old country, many years ago. I might be strong enough to hold some sway over Dean, but being as old as I am, my blood might push Dean over the edge of no turning back. And," she sighed. "I'll need to drink human blood to strengthen my virus to be able to beat hers."

Sam pushed his sleeve up without hesitation. "As much as you need." Lenore's words of foolish offers whispered in the back of his mind but he pushed them away.

Eli stepped between them. "She had a hard enough time last time coming back from it. You can't ask her to go through that again."

"Eli," Lenore said softly, "I can get through it. No, it's not fun, I'll be miserable for a week and have cravings for a few months, but if we don't do this, Dean will be lost." She turned Eli to face her. "When that hunter had me, Dean didn't approve of the torture, but I know he still wanted to kill me. I know he fought every instinct he had, to not kill me. He saw me as I was. He saw me fight off the hunger and he sided with me. We won an ally that day and we can't afford to lose such allies. Allies like Dean are the only chance we have to survive."

"Haven't we done enough? We got Sam to the nest. If we go up against Thompson, siding with hunters, our _own_ kind will hunt us down. They won't forgive that betrayal." His eyes shone with his fear for the woman he loved so desperately.

"Thompson has plenty of enemies," Shelly said. "I doubt anyone but his family will care. Admittedly, though, he does have one of the larger extended families."

Detroit spoke up. "Sam, your idea of going in during the day probably isn't the best. While we can tolerate the sun, it's still hard on us and will make it harder for us to back you up. And then there's the little problem that Thompson tends to be cautious and he usually sets guards, even during the day. It'll make it that much harder to get in unnoticed. If we miss one of the guards, the whole nest might be alerted and awake, waiting for you."

Sam shrugged helplessly. "We can try to pick them off, but if the family is as large as you say, all we'll really end up doing is alerting them that they're in danger. Taking out even five or six just won't reduce their manpower enough to make them manageable even if all five of us went in. It would still be four to one for each of us, if we're lucky. I don't think we could survive that. Daylight is the only viable option that I see."

"Oh, maybe we just need to be smart about this," Lenore said as she leaned against the car. She pursed her lips and Sam could see she was contemplating some sort of plan. She looked at Shelly. "Do you have a way to contact Thompson?"

Shelly's face darkened. "Yes," she said. "He always made sure everyone in the family had an emergency contact number that could reach him. It should still be good." Shelly took Detroit's hand. He gave her a weak smile. He didn't want to go back. He wasn't sure Thompson would let him live if he did go back.

Lenore nodded and stared at the stars twinkling overhead, still obviously deep in thought.

Eli knew that look and groaned inwardly. That was the same look she'd had when she'd declared an end to feeding on humans after they'd lost half their family to a hunter. He'd called her crazy, but it had worked. They'd stayed off the radar of most hunters for a very long time. Until that bastard hunter, Gordan Walker, had gotten on their trail and kept them on the run for months.

Sam tried to wait patiently but finally asked. "Lenore? You have an idea?"

"Yes, I think so. It will be risky for all of us, and we may have to fight our way out, but it'll get us in. It's going to be hardest on you, Sam." She turned to Detroit. "We'll need somebody out here with the car to come in and get us if we run into trouble. Would you mind sitting this out?"

Detroit looked at Shelly who nodded encouragingly to him. A look a relief coming to his face. "I can do that."

"Shelly, Eli, do you think you can come back after drinking human blood? You don't need much, just enough to change your scent and to prove we've been feeding on Sam."

Sam swallowed hard. Three of them were going to feed on him? He trusted Lenore to keep her bloodlust under control. She'd proven herself worthy of that trust—more of less—but Eli and Shelly? Sam sometimes felt Eli wanted a piece of him and wasn't really crazy about the idea of giving him the chance. As for Shelly, well it apparently hadn't been all that long that she'd been off human blood. How would she react after tasting his blood?

Shelly looked at Detroit lovingly. "Absolutely."

Eli's jaw clenched and he stared at the ground for several seconds. He finally nodded. "Yes." He looked at Lenore. "If I didn't love you so damned much . . ." he said with a shake of his head. "You are one damned stubborn woman."

She grinned at him. "That's why I'm still alive." She turned back to Sam. "We're going to have to convince them you killed some of our family. You'll need some bruises. We'll need to bind you. We'll need to feed on you. This isn't going to be pleasant for you. And we can't go in until tomorrow night. Do you trust me?"

Sam looked at Lenore, fear lingering in his eyes. They were going to beat him. They were going to feed on him. They were going to tie him up and walk into the nest with him. He would be at their mercy and maybe the mercy of the entire nest. His stomach practically did flip-flops.

He started to speak but found words escaped him. He looked at the Impala, the incarnation of his brother's soul, and took a deep breath.

"Completely," Sam said as he swallowed back his fear and lied to her. He'd do anything to save his brother, absolutely anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters of this story get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 7_

Sam had been reluctant to accept that he couldn't possibly supply enough blood to remove the tang of cow's blood from all three's scents. After several minutes of heated discussion, Sam finally agreed that they would need to involve innocents. Lenore told him they'd each need three pints of human blood to cover the animal scent and that it wasn't safe to take more than two pints from any one person. That meant they'd need five people. Shelley and Detroit went about procuring their donors while Eli and Lenore gave Sam the bruises he'd need to make his condition convincing. Before they left the motel that evening, Shelley, Eli and Lenore fed from both the innocents and from Sam. From Sam they took only enough to give their scent a bit of his own.

Sam lay bound in the trunk of Lenore's car, aching, and feeling worse than he'd have liked. His shirt was in shreds. Rope hobbled his ankles and bound his arms behind him, and a bandana was between his teeth and tied behind his head. The three bandaged vampire bites still hurt.

The last few minutes of the ride was particularly uncomfortable as they drove on a graveled drive and every bump rattled his teeth. He was grateful when the car finally stopped. He heard Lenore, Shelly and Eli get out of the car. It was another hour before the trunk opened and a welcome cool breeze brushed over him. Eli pulled Sam out roughly and dropped him onto the gravel. Sam grunted, wincing as the sharp gravel dug into him.

Sam's joints were stiff from the long time his large frame was crammed in the small trunk. As he started to stretch out his legs, Eli yanked him to his feet. He stood unsteadily, trying to get his bearings and get his stiffened limbs loosened. His right eye was blackened and swollen, but not so much that he couldn't see out of it.

The Protégé sat parked among ten or so other cars. The Saturn he and Dean had stopped for, and that he later gave chase to for days, was to his left and a few cars away he saw the Mustang that he suspected had chased him. Lights were on in the old two-story white farmhouse and its wraparound porch boasted a swing where two people sat, making out. Further back was a huge, old red barn and he thought he saw another smaller barn off to the side. The big barn's doors were open and music and laughter spilled out from inside. In the front yard of the house was a large oak tree with a tire swing that swayed gently in the breeze. There were no sounds or indication of any animals on the farm.

The sound of delighted laughter made Sam turn as the blonde he knew as Janine strolled up. Her eyes filled with mirth as she measured him. "Well, well, well, look at you, Handsome. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Hey, Suzanne!" she called. "You have to see this."

Suzanne came around the corner of the house, her boots clicking on the gravel road. "What?"

"Look at who it was that went after Lenore's family!" Janine said. She caressed Sam's bruised face with her cold hand. Sam jerked away from her touch.

Suzanne joined them, eyeing Sam. Sam stared back at the two women with hated-filled eyes.

Suzanne turned to Eli, an apology on her face. "He was hunting for us, Eli," she said. "I'm sorry he found your family instead."

Eli's face darkened and his body tensed with anger. "You brought this down on us?" he demanded, brittleness in his voice.

"Lenore said you were near Atlanta?" Suzanne asked.

"Yes. The north side of it," Eli acknowledged.

Janine faced Eli. "That would be where Charles and I left the last of the trail for him before we decided we'd run him around in enough circles," she said. "We didn't know there were any families there and it seemed like a good place to ditch him. I'm really sorry, Eli." Her words seemed sincere.

"We hadn't been there long," Eli said. He sighed, the tension draining out of him. "It's not really your fault he found us. Detroit was sloppy and led him right back to us."

"Yes, Detroit wasn't a very bright one, was he?" Suzanne said mildly, her distaste for Detroit clear. "I don't know what Shelly ever saw in him."

Eli unfastened the leather holding his ponytail and gratefully ran his fingers through his freed hair. "Look, we've been driving for a while. I'm tired." He held up the rope attached to Sam's bound wrists. "Where can I put our food for the night?"

"I'll show you," Suzanne said, giving a nod to Janine. Janine's gaze lingered appreciatively on Sam's body, then she turned and walked toward the farmhouse. Suzanne continued. "You might want to talk to Kate, one of newer members of the family. I'm sure she'd be willing to give you quite a trade for this one. He was part of the group that killed most of her family."

Eli's gaze snapped to her, his eyes flashing. "And he killed most of ours," Eli snarled. He bared his fangs are her. "He's ours to kill and we'll kill anyone who so much as touches him."

She raised her hands, her blouse's loose sleeves falling back to her elbows. "I'm just letting you know that Kate might approach one of you about him. Follow me." She gave Sam a wicked smile. "You can put him in right next to what's left of his brother. He's been quite tasty, that one has."

Sam's eyes widened and he screamed muffled curses at her as he started to rush her. Eli yanked hard on the rope and Sam fell to the ground with a pain-filled grunt. Eli strode to his side and glared down at him.

"Seems you still have a bit too much energy," Eli growled and grabbed Sam by his arms, lifted him to his feet, and then sank his teeth into Sam's biceps. Sam tried to pull away but he only bit harder. Sam groaned, clenching his eyes shut and stopped resisting. Eli drank until Sam swayed on his feet. Finally, Eli extracted his teeth, his eyes glowing with satisfaction, and pushed Sam forward. Sam stumbled and fell to his knees; he shook his head, trying to stay conscious.

"Lead on, Suzanne. I don't think he'll be any more trouble for awhile," Eli said. "Get up, Food, or I'll drag you to your cage by your hair."

Sam slowly struggled to his feet, fearing Eli was serious. Eli had to guide him toward the barn as Sam staggered, seeming befuddled, his eyes unfocused and confused.

When they got to the cages, Eli shoved Sam inside one. Sam fell face down and Eli planted his boot in Sam's back. He cut the ropes from Sam's wrists and ankles and then shackled one of Sam's wrists. A chain ran from the shackle and out the front of the cage where it attached to a padlock. Eli ran an antiseptic wipe over the bite he'd given Sam. Groggily, Sam tried to pull away, his breath hissing between his teeth as the antiseptic burned. Eli left some water and fruit beside Sam, then he shut the cage, locked it, and walked away.

Sam laid there for a few minutes, listening to the surrounding noises. Slowly he pushed himself up, covertly glancing around, taking in the surroundings. Rock music playing from a stereo near the front door. Vampires were scattered here and there in the barn, some making out, some dancing, some drinking or talking. Hammocks strung from support beams, rollaway beds, workbenches, chairs, lights and tables were scattered throughout the barn and it reminded Sam a good deal of the place in which Kate and Luther had been holed up. Various tools and equipment hung on nails or hooks, and chains and leather harnesses and straps hung on the distant walls. Sam was in an eight by eight cage that was in a line of cages in the middle of the barn. Sam saw another set of larger cages by the rear wall.

After he felt confident no one was paying him any particular attention, he let his "grogginess" fade. Eli had taken only a small amount of blood, but his bite had hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Sam worked his arm and was surprised; Eli had slid his teeth between muscle and the damage done to his arm was minimal. It twinged, but not as Sam had expected when Eli had first bit in.

Looking to his right, he saw a vacant-eyed woman in the next cage. To his left—the air rushed out of his lungs. His brother was lying next to the bars, shirtless, bruises and wounds peppering his back. Sam crept over to him and reached through the bars, his fingers checking his brother's neck for a pulse. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Dean's heartbeat was strong and steady. He gripped his brother's shoulder and gently shook him.

"Dean," Sam whispered. "Wake up."

Dean slowly sat up and turned to see who woke him. It took a moment and then recognition lit his face. "Sam!" Dean said. His gaze went to the still dripping wound on Sam's arm and felt his mouth water. _Fresh blood._ He grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled his arm further into his cage. Sam winced as he felt Dean's human teeth bite into the wound, bringing forth fresh blood. He tried to pull his arm back through the bars, but Dean was shockingly strong.

"Stop it!" Sam hissed at him and threw all his weight away from Dean. Dean's head thunked against the bars and he released his grip on his brother's arm. The sudden release of his arm made Sam fall backwards and onto his ass, bringing chuckles from a trio of nearby vampires. He gave them a glare that only made them laugh harder. Ripping off a scrap of his shredded shirt, he hastily wrapped the bite wound.

_Well, that answers that question,_ Sam thought grimly. He looked in on his brother. He'd never seen Dean look so pale, so … beaten. "Dean?" he asked gently.

Dean hung his head and wouldn't look at his brother. "I—I can't control it, Sam. Stay out of my reach."

"I've covered it. Will that help?" Sam asked, easing further back from the bars. He glanced behind him, wondering if the vacant-eyed woman was also turned and might be a threat herself. She continued to stare blankly from where she sat in the middle of the cage.

"Some," Dean said miserably, "but I can still smell it. I'll be alright, so long as I know you're out of reach." He laughed weakly, "Dude, hell of a rescue you've got going here."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, things didn't work out quite like I'd planned. So, they've, uh, turned you."

"Looks like," Dean said bitterly. "I'm sorry, Sam." He looked up. He wasn't crying, but his eyes shone as if he were about to. "I'm sorry I stopped to help those two bitches. I'm sorry I got us into this."

"If I'd been driving, I'd have probably wanted to stop, too. You didn't know. It's okay," Sam soothed.

"It's not okay!" Dean yelled. "Dammit, I should have known better."

"How, Dean," Sam shot back. "How would you have known?"

"It's my job! I'm the older brother. I'm supposed to know these things." Dean's face was contorted in rage and anguish.

"Dean," Sam said, "stop beating yourself up over this."

Dean stood up. "Really? Why? I don't know if you noticed, but I just drank your blood, Sam. And I liked it. I'm turning into a freaking vampire! I use to laugh when I said that word. Vampire. Dracula. Buffy the fucking _vampire_ slayer." Dean moved closer to the bars and stared at his brother. "I stand here talking to you and all I can think of is how damned good your blood tasted and how much I want more. Thinking that I could sucker you closer by acting sick or hurt and then when you reached through I could rip your carotid open with my fingernails and sink my teeth into your throat and drink every drop I could suck out of your veins."

Sam stared at his brother, his face creased in sorrow and pain.

"Don't!" Dean snarled at him. "Don't you feel sorry for me. Just make sure if you get out of here that you kill me before you leave. You hear me, Sam? If you can, you've got to kill me. I won't live like this, or be undead like this, or whatever the hell it is. I won't be that slut Kate's vampire bitch."

"I heard she was here," Sam said quietly.

Dean pushed away from the bars and stared at the cobwebbed rafters overhead. He could see a few birds nestled down for the night and briefly wondered how bird blood would taste. He was still so very hungry. Sam's blood had only whetted his appetite and fanned his bloodlust. "Yeah. Sweet little bitchy Kate," he muttered. His gaze came back to his brother. "Hell, she's going to want you, too."

"I've got a feeling my vampires won't be willing to hand me over to her. They're kind of fond of me for their own reasons."

Dean tilted his head and took a deep breath. He could smell Sam's blood, still taste it in his mouth and was both repulsed and thrilled by its sweet flavor. The bloodlust was a fire burning high inside of him. He realized that he was judging how far Sam was from the bars and whether or not he could get to him. He fought the urge to do just what he'd told Sam; find a way to coax him just a little closer.

"Sam, you really need to move a little further back," Dean said, fighting to get the words out as his inner voice screamed, _No! Don't warn him. Draw him closer!_

Sam backed away another foot. "Better?"

"Not really," Dean said, "but at least I know you're definitely out of reach. Keep it that way, you hear me?" he ordered.

Sam nodded. "I will."

Their gazes locked and a thousand unspoken words seemed to pass between them. Old memories of childhood, new memories since their father had died, and everything in between. Dean finally broke eye contact and stared down at the dirt floor.

"So, tell me, how'd you get caught?" Dean asked.

Sam grimaced. "I thought I'd found the nest, went in to get you, took down over half of them, but there were more than I thought. So is Kate the one who turned you?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "She planned to send me after you and Dad when I was a little closer to being a full blown vampire."

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him and, after confirming the vampires in the barn appeared to be ignoring them, murmured softly, "I take it you didn't tell her about Dad being dead and all."

Dean managed a grin and whispered back, "Yeah, hadn't really gotten around to it yet. Figured it might keep her a little nervous. Kind of a private little joke I was playing."

"How long ago did she make you drink her blood? How many days?" Sam asked, afraid of the answer. Dean had been missing for fifteen days and fifteen days was almost certainly too long.

"I don't know," he said, returning to the bars that separated their cages. The craving for fresh blood was getting harder to ignore. With an effort he squashed the urge to wave Sam closer.

"Think, Dean. How long?" Sam said, almost pleading.

Dean ran his fingers through his short hair. "Maybe five days, I guess. She wanted to get a little obedience beaten into me or something first, and Suzanne wanted to feed on me for a while. I guess I stopped tasting so good and Kate decided beating me up and breaking my bones just wasn't as much fun as the alternative of making me her bitch."

_Five days. We should still have time,_ Sam thought, relieved. Five days wasn't great, but it was a much shorter time than he'd feared. "How often does she make you drink her blood? Once, twice, three times a day?"

"What, are you taken a freaking survey?" Dean snapped.

"Just tell me," Sam said and started to move closer to Dean, then saw the hungry gleam in his eyes. He edged back to his previous safe spot. "How many times a day?"

Dean's adrenaline kicked up a notch when Sam moved closer and he found himself shifting subtly, ready to grab for him. He tried to push himself back from the bars but found he eased closer still. He breathed both a sigh of relief and frustration when Sam went back to where he'd been standing. It took him a moment to remember Sam's question. "Twice in the beginning, but she's feeding me more often since the bloodlust started. Why?"

Sam frowned worriedly, Lenore's words haunting him. The virus was overwhelming Dean's immune system. "When did the bloodlust start?"

"What's it matter?" Resignation was clear in his voice. His shoulders sagged as if the weight he'd been carrying suddenly became too much. "I'm done. It's over." He hadn't quite embraced that fact until just then. Always a small voice inside of him had denied that truth, had promised there was a way out, a way back to human. But there wasn't. The delicious taste of Sam's blood lingering in his mouth made that perfectly clear. His worst fears were made manifest. He'd become one of those _things_ he hunted.

"When, Dean," Sam demanded.

Dean growled his annoyance. "I guess two or three days ago."

"How many times have you fed on non-vampire blood?"

Dean ran his hand up and down the cold metal bars. His mind told him the bars were too thick, even with his growing vampire strength, to bend. He should be trying to escape, not drooling over the blood that pumped in his brother's body! But he knew he'd never leave Kate, not willingly, and that thought made him want to puke. So long as she offered him her blood, he'd fawn at her feet like a lovesick puppy. He loathed himself more for that weakness than any other. He looked at the red dust that coated the bars. _Even the land bleeds red,_ Dean thought.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean refocused on his brother as he wiped the red dust from his hands to what remained of his jeans. "I don't know how often." He laughed harshly. "Should I include just now when I tried to drain my own brother and still would, given the chance?"

"Yes, including just now," Sam said patiently.

"Why? I've fed on human blood and I savored every damned drop. What does it matter if I've done it once or a hundred freaking times?"

Sam looked around and re-confirmed no one was paying them any attention. He dropped his voice to a bare whisper. "Because there might be a way to reverse the change."

Dean straightened. "What?" The vampire in him denied it, ridiculed it, but the hunter in him grabbed hold of Sam's words with both hands. It wasn't over? He might still have a chance to be human again?

"How many times?" Sam asked again.

Dean was dumbfounded. He stared at his brother, his eyes begging Sam that he was telling him the truth. "You're the fifth, I think, maybe the sixth? But I've got a helluva lot of blank spots Sammy. It could be twice that or more. There's really a chance?"

"Time's against us, but yes. Do you think she'll make you drink her blood again? And make you feed on human blood again tonight?"

"I hope so," Dean said before he realized it. He saw the look in Sam's eyes and ground his teeth. "Before sunrise, she'll be back. When the hunger starts really getting bad, she usually comes. And it's getting pretty bad. Sam, when she's here, especially right after—I can't control myself. I mean, worse than now. I'll do what ever she orders me to." His green eyes showed the pain that admission caused him. "I'll do absolutely anything."

"I know. Until you get your vampire teeth and can feed yourself, the sire can control you. It's not any weakness on your part, Dean," Sam told him. "The demon is exerting control. It's kind of like being possessed."

"You get this all out of Elkins' book?" Dean had read some of the journal but hadn't studied it as Sam had. He didn't recall reading anything about bringing a vampire back from being turned though.

"Something like that," Sam said, hedging. "Do you know if you'd be compelled to tell her information? I mean, do you think you'll tell her I might know how to reverse it?"

Dean's shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "It's like it's not me Sam. I see it all happening but I don't have any control. If you've got secret plans, you'd better not tell me. I can't be trusted."

"Okay. We'll get out of this. Have faith, big brother," Sam reassured him.

Dean looked at the bars around them and the shackled they both still wore. "You must have one hell of a genius plan, college boy."

Sam grinned through his split lip. "I hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

12

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 8_

After reassurances from Dean, Sam ate the fruit and drank the water Eli had left. The brother's exchanged small talk, Sam keeping the conversation away from anything that might give Dean insight into the plan of escape, though he did have to reassure him he did have a plan. Dean's opinion of Pastor Jim's spaghetti stopped midsentence when he stiffened and turned toward the front of the cage, every nerve in him electrified. Sam watched him, concerned, but stayed where he was.

"She's coming," Dean whispered to him.

"Kate?" Sam whispered back.

"Yes," Dean hissed, his eyes anxiously searching the shadows for his sire. He felt his will leave him when he caught her scent. His hunger, already strong, turned ravenous. He moved to the front of the cage, wincing as his stomach cramped with hunger. When he saw her step into the nearby light, he sank to his knees at the front of the cage.

"Mistress Kate," he moaned, reaching his hand through the bars toward her.

Kate smiled, pleased by his reaction, and walked up to the cage. "How's my little doggie," she asked. She slapped his hand back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said. He stared at her, his eyes filled with desperation, making her smile broaden.

"Ready to eat?" she asked as she brought out a knife to open her wrist for him.

"Yes," Dean said breathlessly, hopefully. He stared at her white wrist as a starving dog offered a feast.

She paused, her nostrils flaring, and her gaze shot to Sam. "You!"

"Hi, Bitch," Sam said pleasantly.

She saw the shackle on his wrist and the chain that led to the front of the cage. A smile snaked to her lips. "Oh, this is just too perfect."

"Better talk to my vampires before you get any ideas. I think they have first dibs on gutting me," Sam said, shifting to the back of the cage and sliding his arm around a bar.

"Oh, but we always share our food," Kate said, letting her fangs descend. She gripped the chain running to his shackle and began to try to pull him toward her.

The crook of his elbow pulled against the cold metal bar. He knew vampires were strong and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to stay away from her. He wondered if he should call for Lenore, though surely Kate wouldn't be stupid enough to kill him. "So they'll get a piece of Dean?" he asked. "I didn't think you wanted to share your toy."

Annoyance clouded her face, and he heard her growl as she pulled harder on the chain.

The shackle was biting painfully into his wrist. He gave her a strained smile. "Now what would my vampires say, you trying to take me for your own? Gee, lucky me, there's one now," Sam said, privately relieved to see Shelly, but he let fear creep into his eyes all the same.

"And just what are you doing with my family's food, Kate?" Shelly asked mildly. She'd never liked Kate, not from the get-go. Kate was a pathetic mini-me wannabe of Thompson and Suzanne. She didn't have a backbone and when it came right down to it she'd fold the moment any real stress was put on her.

Kate let the chain slide through her palm, but still held its end, toying with it. "So you brought him in?" she asked.

"Yes," Shelly said.

"Thompson has offered you additional food, hasn't he?"

"Of course."

Kate's lips pursed as she fingered the steel chain. "I'd like this one. Name your price."

Shelly walked up to her and took the chain from her. "He's not up for barter. He killed my mate." She looked in at Sam, fury in her eyes. "He killed most of my family. He's ours to kill."

"Would you consider sharing?" Kate walked over to Dean and ran her hand through his short hair. "I could offer you something unique to cause your food some rather delicious pain."

Sam's chain clattered against the bars as Shelly dropped the links and folded her arms across the chest. "And what could you possibly have to offer?"

"This one is his brother. This one is the reason he killed your family."

Shelly walked over to Dean. She inhaled his scent. "He's your dog," she spat.

Kate smiled down at him. "Yes. I had my fun with him for a little while, but I just wasn't getting real satisfaction from torturing him. Humans are so frail. Now he heals quickly. Now he obeys me. Now he adores me."

"Until he comes into his own," Shelly said. "Then he'll probably rip your throat out."

Kate's look turned to disdain. "I'd planned to send him out to bring in his father and brother. Let their blood finish turning him, then I intended to lock him up and starve him. After a time." She looked over at Shelly. "Their father is out there. And their father has a gun—"

"I remember your story," Shelly interrupted. "A gun that can supposedly kill vampires—"

"It killed Luther," Kate raged.

"Whatever," Shelly snapped back. "This one was working alone. There wasn't the scent of anyone else in his car, at least no one recently. If the father's out there, he wasn't with this one, and believe me, we didn't leave a trail. We knew other hunters would follow. Lenore is very good at covering our tracks."

"I'd heard Lenore's family had gone _vegetarian_," Kate said, a sneer in her voice.

Shelly's fangs descended and she took a threatening step toward Kate. "I wouldn't say that to Lenore. She'll show you just how _vegetarian_ we are."

Dean stood and growled at Shelly, baring his own teeth at her.

Shelly raised an eyebrow, surprised, and then began to laugh as her fangs retracted. "Dangerous dog you've got there."

Kate ventured, "I'd be willing to share my dog with you," Kate ventured, "If you'll share yours with me. I want them both to suffer."

Shelly's eyes hardened. "Ours killed my mate. He didn't kill yours. That was their father, as I recall."

"Shelly," Kate began.

Shelly held up her hand. "It doesn't matter, Kate. I can't make any deal. Lenore would rip my throat out. She'll have to broker any deal but I'll tell you, she's not going to want to share. If you think Thompson can do a number on someone, you've not seen anything until you've seen Lenore work. If you _really_ want your dog to suffer, hand him over to Lenore. That'll be the closest to Hell anyone would ever get without actually going there. She's centuries old. She knows her business."

"Hand him over? But I didn't think your family was staying. Just needed a place to crash for a few days and to get some food."

"Yeah. But trust me, he'd suffer," Shelly said with an evil smile. She turned back to Sam's cage. She yawned, letting her fangs descend once again. "Now pardon me, but I just came to get my bedtime snack."

Kate glared after her, extending the glare to Sam. She turned away then and looked at Dean and sighed, clearly frustrated. She pulled her knife back out and drew the blade along her wrist, leaving a bright crimson trail. Dean gripped the bars, his knuckles white as he stared at her arm. Kate opened his cage and Dean waited. "Are you hungry, doggie?"

"Yes, Mistress," Dean said, hardly able to hold himself back. She lowered her arm to him. He grabbed it and began to drink hungrily. Kate looked over at Sam who had paled and looked away. She smiled.

Shelly stood at the front of Sam's cage. "You, here. NOW," she ordered him.

Sam gave her contemptuous look. "Yeah. Right."

Shelly grabbed the chain attached to the shackle. Sam kept his arm wrapped securely around the bar.

"If I pull hard enough, it'll break your elbow. You really want that?" Shelly said.

"Go for it," Sam said.

Shelly pulled on the chain. Sam struggled to hang onto the bar but felt his arm slipping. With another heave, she jerked him three feet towards her. Sam tried to brace himself with his feet, but he slid into the bars in front of her and she grabbed his arm. He punched her in the face with his free hand. She took the hit, hung on to his arm and twisted it. He cried out as the twisting put him on his back.

"All right," Sam gasped.

"I'd break it, but Lenore wants to wait for the real torture until we get to our new home," Shelly hissed. "She doesn't want you in too bad of shape to travel. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Oh, yeah. Lucky. That's me," Sam snorted.

"Sit up, Food," she ordered. He reluctantly got to his knees, making it more comfortable for her to feed. She tore off a bandage and dug her teeth into his flesh. Sam cried out in pain, his eyes watering.

He heard Kate's laughter. "I don't suppose you'd let my little dog have some of that, would you?"

Shelly glared at her and dug her teeth in deeper. Sam couldn't keep his groan quiet. He let himself sag against the bars. She finally released his arm, and began to clean the wound. She looked at Kate. "I'm sure that would bother both of them deeply, but he's been a bit abused the past few days. He's not up to sharing right now. And certainly, _not_ without Lenore's permission," she said. She finished with a snarl, "Feed your dog elsewhere."

Kate glowered at Sam who was struggling to stay conscious. Sam saw Dean sitting by Kate's feet, staring adoringly up at her. She kicked him in the chest. "Move it, dog. Let's get you some blood."

Dean picked himself up and followed meekly after her, the chains on his wrists dragging behind him.

Shelly finished cleaning the wound and bandaged it. She met his gaze, and for just a momentary flicker, he saw her regret. He resisted acknowledging it, afraid someone might see the exchange. She shoved him hard and he fell backwards then she slid some water and juice in, as well as some chicken and some cookies. "Best you eat up. Lenore will be by before she goes to bed and I'm sure she'll be hungry. If she wasn't coming by," Shelly put her hand to her face where he'd hit her, "you'd go hungry yourself. You'll pay for this, along with everything else you've done."

"Yeah, well, looks like you already plan to torture and kill me. I might as well make it worthwhile, Bitch."

Shelly looked after Dean and Kate. "I don't know," Shelly murmured. "Maybe Kate has the right idea. Lenore will take you right up to death, until you beg for it. Then maybe we'll bring you over, just as Kate's done to your brother. That would be a fitting punishment for a hunter."

Sam looked away from her. "Go to hell."

Her laughter echoed in the shadows as she walked away.

Sam searched for his brother, but Kate and Dean were apparently no longer in the barn. Reluctantly, he turned to the food she'd left him. Lenore had told him he'd need to eat to keep up his strength, so Sam ate some of the chicken and cookies and drank some of the juice. Shelly had drunk only a bit of his blood, but the pain of the bite had brought on an adrenaline rush that was now giving him the shakes. He tried to remind himself freedom was only a few hours away.

Sam didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but the tug on the chain woke him. Lenore glowered at him. "Shelly told you I'd be by. I hope you're feeling well rested."

Sam let his gaze drift from her. Other vampires were still up and about, but their numbers were thinning. She slowly pulled the chain toward her. Half-heartedly, Sam resisted. Damn, he didn't want to bitten again.

"Are you tired, dear Sammy?" Lenore asked.

"Not so tired I wouldn't behead your ass, given a machete."

Lenore chuckled. "I do like my food to have fire. Why don't you give me your other arm? I prefer my bites to be fresh."

"Why would I do anything that would make you happy?"

Lenore grabbed one of his fingers. "Fine. I'll start by breaking your fingers. Then I'll break you arm. Unless you'd care to cooperate?"

When Sam didn't move, she began to bend his finger back.

"Wait!" Sam said through a clenched jaw and reluctantly put his unshackled arm through the bars. She gripped his arm and bit deep. Sam groaned as he felt her teeth dig in deeply. He felt her suckling at the wound as she fed. She would need the extra strength for their move in a few short hours and he'd need the time to recover. He forced his face to remain neutral as he watched her, remembering when she had been poisoned by Gordan.

_He carried her out of the rental house and set her in the passenger's seat of the Impala._

_"Where can I take you?" Sam asked gently as he knelt by her._

_"You think I'm going to tell you?" she snarled, trying to push him away._

_"Lenore, you convinced me. You convinced my brother. We believe you."_

_"I'm not telling you!" she said, seemingly oblivious to Sam's words._

_Sam gathered her into his arms. "Lenore, please. You're hurt. You're sick. You said you don't hurt people anymore. Well, Dean and I, we're not going to kill vampires that don't feed on humans. You said it yourself. You're not hurting anyone and you __**do**__ have a right to live. Please, Lenore. I trust you. I know you could rip my throat out, but didn't then and you won't now." He ran his hand over her hair. "Let me help you Lenore. Let me take you to your family."_

_She began to sob into his shoulder. "No."_

_He pulled her away from him, took her chin in his hand, and made her look into his eyes. "Lenore. My name is Sam. I swear to you, I only want to help. If I'm lying, your family can kill me. I want to get you and your family safely away. Please Lenore, you asked me to believe you. Now it's your turn. You've got to believe me."_

_Her fearful eyes stared into his own. She took a breath that rattled in her chest. "The dock. Take me to the dock. Where you killed Conrad."_

_"I'm really sorry for that, Lenore. We didn't know. Thank you for trusting me," Sam said and shut the car door. He went around to the driver's side, got in and started the engine. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the marina. Lenore's breathing had grown steadily worse during the trip._

_"Slip 37," she whispered in his ear as he lifted her into his arms._

_Sam walked down to the slip where a small boat was moored. It was a row over and few slips down from where Dean had killed Conrad._

_"Eli," Sam called out, "Lenore's hurt. She needs help. Please, Eli."_

_Eli and the others of her family stepped out of the shadows, weapons in hand. Lenore weakly waved them back. "No. He saved me." She gave Eli a tremulous smile. "See, I told you they could change."_

_Eli gave Sam a skeptical look._

_"It's not a trick," Sam reassured him. "I came alone. Dean's back at the rental house guarding Gordan. You need to get out of here. We'll try to buy you a few days to get far away from him, to make sure he loses your trail."_

_Eli took Lenore into his arms. "Why would you help us, human?"_

_Sam gave him a small smile. "Hunters hunt evil. We've never heard of any vampires that didn't feed on humans. You're a new breed to us. If you aren't hurting people, why would we kill you? I'll tell other hunters, at least those that might listen, that some of you aren't killers anymore. I'll make sure they find out about your family's beliefs. I can't guarantee they'll believe me. I can't guarantee that they won't still come after you. But maybe I can convince some. I promise you, I'll try. It won't bring Conrad back, but maybe it can be his legacy."_

_Eli took her onto the boat and set her down on a bench. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now. Sam, after a moment, stepped onto the boat after them. His brow creased as he watched her struggle to breath._

_"She's dying, isn't she?" Sam asked softly._

_Eli shook his head. "No. She won't. She can't." He opened her shirt and looked at the deep wound Gordan had given her. He could smell the poison and the toxins from the dying virus. His own breath strangled in his throat. "No, Lenore. Be strong," he whispered. Gordan had cut through her stomach, her diaphragm, and gashed into her heart and lungs. He could tell more deadman's blood had been poured into the wound. The deadman's blood had poisoned a good portion of the vital organs. Without blood—real blood, not the crap they fed on—she probably would linger for days._

_"Would some of my blood help save her?" Sam asked hesitantly._

_"We don't drink human blood," Eli snapped at him as he cradled his love in his arms._

_Sam stepped closer. "I know. But she's dying, isn't she?"_

_Eli nodded, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks._

_"Would some of my blood save her?" Sam asked again._

_"She won't drink," Eli said._

_"How much would she need?"_

_"A pint, maybe a bit more," Eli said._

_"That's not enough to kill me. She wouldn't be breaking any promises of killing humans," Sam said and pulled out his knife. He cut a fresh gash beside the one Gordan had made and held the bleeding wound in front of her._

_"Lenore, please," Sam said. "Let me save you. Just a little to get your strength back, to fight off the deadman's blood. But you can't have it all, okay? You don't want to kill the first hunter you've converted, now do you?"_

_"No. I won't. I won't," she insisted, turning away from his arm._

_"Lenore," Eli coaxed, "he's offering. Freely offering. He can save you. Please stop being a stubborn ass. Please, Love. Feed."_

_Lenore looked into Sam's face. He nodded encouragingly._

_She inhaled the scent of sweet human blood and let her craving overwhelm her. She grabbed his arm with lightning reflexes and bit deeply. Sam cried out as he sank to his knees, the pain intense and startling. He felt her drink and the lightheadedness crept into his brain. He struggled to pull away, suddenly afraid he'd made a fatal mistake, when she withdrew her teeth from his flesh. He swayed and she drew him into her arms and cradled him there, gently brushing his cheek with her fingers._

_"You are a foolish boy," she crooned softly. "And I owe you my life. I will not forget."_

_It had only taken a few minutes for Sam to get his feet back under him and in that time Eli cleaned and bandaged the wound. Lenore still looked weak, but no longer as if she'd die. She had kissed San firmly, with just a touch of promise in it. He tasted his own blood on his lips._

_"Now you've done enough. Go," she said._

_"No," he told her. "Not until I know you and your family are safely away."_

_He helped them finish packing and, after they had exchanged phone numbers, with a promise to call one another if ever the situation was dire, he saw them off. She called a few weeks later to thank him again and let him know she and her family had found a safe haven and that there had been no sign of Gordan. Sam had never told Dean that he'd let her feed, but he thought Dean had seen the wound when he was rebandaging it a few days later. If he had, he never brought it up._

Sam watched as she extracted her teeth, and then licked the wound clean. She bandaged it. "See what cooperation gets you?" she said to him sweetly and gripped his hand. He felt her press a key into his palm.

"Yeah. No broken arm," Sam said with a snort.

She slid in a tray of juice, cornbread, and a sandwich. "See you soon," she said and turned to leave.

"Do you intend to kill me?" Sam asked.

She paused and looked over her shoulder. "We haven't decided yet. You did take Shelly's mate from her. She's toying with making you her new boy." She looked in the cage beside Sam where Dean slept. "Maybe we'll invite Kate to join us so you and your brother can be back together. You were hunters. You know all their tricks. Maybe we'll even start hunting the hunters."

"We'd never help you."

Lenore laughed. "What makes you think you'll have a choice?"

He knew the key she'd given him was to his shackle. They would still have to unlock the cage, but they'd do that when they got Dean out. Sam resisted the urge to go over and wake his brother, especially since he had the fresh wound on his arm. He pulled the sandwich to him and peeked under the bread. There was a small, three inch syringe there, filled with few ounces of deadman's blood. Sam would inject it into Dean, preferably his neck, when Lenore came back. It would hopefully be enough to drive Dean to drink Lenore's blood and give Lenore enough sway over him to make him cooperative. That was the plan, anyhow.

Sam concealed the syringe under the bandage Lenore had just put on his arm and then ate the food she'd left and decided he could use the few hours sleep. They might not get any for awhile once it all began.


	9. Chapter 9

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 9_

Sam snapped awake when the chain on his arm was tugged so hard he went sprawling.

Kate had a hold of the chain and continued to pull him toward her. He was already out of reach of the bars and had no leverage to stop her.

"I'm not yours to kill," Sam said. "The others will be pissed."

She smiled. "Oh,_ I _don't intend to kill you."

Horrified, Sam realized she was pulling him toward Dean's cage.

"Here you go, little doggie," Kate said. "Wouldn't you like some fresh blood to ease that blood lust of yours?"

Dean knelt at the bars between his and Sam's cage. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth; Kate had fed him again and the vampire virus demanded fresh blood. Dean's face had a look of hunger and he eyed Sam with a predatory gaze. She handed part of the chain into Dean. Dean grabbed it and began hauling Sam closer.

"Dean, fight it!" Sam said. Wedging his feet against the bars, he tried to keep Dean from pulling his arm through.

Dean stood up and pulled with all his strength. Sam slammed hard against the bars, dazing him. Dean pushed the chain back into Kate's waiting hand and she passed him a knife while keeping the chain taut. Dean crouched by Sam's outstretched arm, knife in hand, as he ran his fingers lightly over the inside of Sam's forearm, right along the artery.

"Dean, you don't want to do this," Sam said. He struggled to pull his arm back but every fraction he gained Kate recovered easily. She had the chain pulled so taut that Sam felt the shackle cutting into the base of his hand; blood began to well up along its cold metal surface. He thought she was going dislocate his shoulder.

"Lenore!" Sam screamed. "Lenore! Kate's trying to take your kill! Shelly! You won't get your revenge! Eli!"

Wrapping his fingers around Sam's arm, Dean carefully placed the knife and cut a two-inch long gash along Sam's artery.

"Dean!" Sam yelled in pain.

Oblivious, Dean set the glistening knife aside and put his lips to the flowing blood. His teeth clamped tight and he drank.

"Dean, stop. Please, Dean," Sam begged. It didn't take long for the lightheadedness to overtake him.

"Dean," Sam said and reached through the bars, digging his fingers into the back of Dean's neck. "Dean, you're taking too much. Please, brother. Stop. Please," Sam pleaded as his world began to spin.

As his eyes began to droop closed he whispered, "Dean."

The hungry gleam in Dean's eyes faded and his consciousness swam slowly back to the surface. He fell back from his brother, aghast. Sam's head lolled forward and his body lay limply against the bars.

"Sam? Oh, God, oh, no. Sammy?" Dean gasped, shaking his brother. He looked at the blood still pouring from the arterial cut and hastily made a restricting band with one of the bandages from his own arm.

"Come on Sammy," Dean said. "Come on. Wake up, Sam!" Dean yelled at him, shaking him.

Kate laughed with delight and let go of Sam's chain.

Dean saw the bloody knife lying on the ground. Fury filled him as he grabbed the knife and turned toward his sire. He lunged for her, but she side-stepped the jab and locked gazes with him.

"Hand me the knife, doggie," she said firmly. Stepping forward, she smiled and held out her hand.

Dean felt himself begin to obey, to hold the knife out to her, but fought against her control with every scrap of willpower he could muster. He plunged the knife into the side of her neck, trying to sever her head from her body with the blow but the blade just wasn't long enough.

"Dammit!" Kate cursed as she fell back and yanked the knife free. Her head tilted and she hissed, "Oh, you think you still have your own will, do you?" She gashed open her arm and held it out to him.

Dean froze, his eyes locked on her blood, the smell of it clouding his mind and sapping his willpower. He sank to his knees and stared at it. He licked his lips and tasted Sam's blood.

"No," Dean whispered and squeezed shut his eyes. He threw himself back from the bars. The bloodlust didn't burn in him at the moment. That had been sated by his own brother's lifeblood. He turned toward Sam and made Sam become his world. He had to ignore the tantalizing smell and the pound of his own heart in his ears as he fought every second to stay away from Kate's crimson offering. Dean felt for a pulse in Sam's neck. It was weak, it was rapid, but at least it was there. Dean shook with relief. His brother was still alive.

"Come here!" Kate demanded.

Dean stayed focused on Sam, though every fiber in him wanted to go to her. _If I leave Sam now, he'll die,_ he told himself. He had to get a bandage on Sam's arm so he could take off the restricting band. He could see the imprint of his own teeth in Sam's arm and felt sick. He ripped off the bandage wrapping his ribs and began to wrap it tightly around Sam's wound, the wound he'd cut into his own brother's arm.

She grabbed Dean's chains and pulled him over to her. She put her arm in front of Dean's face. Dean clenched his fists, fighting the gruesome addiction that begged to be satisfied.

"Feed!" she demanded.

Dean tried to hold himself back but it was too much. He had to have it. As he wrapped his fingers around her bleeding arm and brought it to his mouth, his gaze slid to his brother and felt the tears burn his eyes. The bloodlust would come back. He knew it would. He knew he'd finish off his brother as soon as it did and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He tried to find solace that at least Sam wouldn't be turned, or tortured, or forced to endure the things he knew Kate yet had in mind for him.

"What the hell are you doing?" a woman yelled.

Kate's arm was ripped away from him as she was thrown across the room. Dean flew at the bars, desperate for the blood, desperate to protect his sire. He froze when he saw the woman who'd flung Kate away.

"Lenore?" he whispered.

Lenore punched him in the face and he fell back, nothing but stars in front of his eyes. By the time his vision had cleared, Kate was bloodied and nursing a broken arm. Several sleepy-eyed vampires milled about, watching the scene. The barn door had been thrown open and morning sunlight streamed in along with a crisp smelling breeze. Thompson stood nearby, watching.

Lenore was a vision of fury. "He is mine! He killed _my_ family! How dare you claim rights you don't have!" Lenore screamed at her. "If you've killed him, I swear I will rip you limb from limb before I behead you!" She started forward, ready to attack Kate again.

Thompson interceded, stepping between them. "Lenore, he killed her family as well."

"And she ran like a dog with her tail between her legs," Lenore spate at him. "_We_ caught him. She has no claim on him!"

"You're right," Thompson soothed. "And what she did was wrong."

"That doesn't help if he dies!" She wheeled and stalked toward Dean with a look of murder on her face. Instinct made him back away from her.

"If he dies, this one is mine," Lenore said, pointing at Dean. She turned back around and dared anyone to challenge her. "Until I'm assured he's going to recover, this one _will_ be mine."

"Thompson!" Kate said and took a step forward, cradling her broken arm. "He's already well on the way to being turned. She can't claim him."

Thompson raised an eyebrow at her. "You should have thought of that before you pulled your little stunt. A week from now and they might well have given you permission to let your dog kill their food. You screwed up, Kate. Until the other one is well enough, assuming he recovers, she's got fair claim to do whatever she wants."

Lenore smiled. "And let's just make sure of that, shall we?" She turned to Dean. "Come here."

Dean reluctantly moved to the front of the cage. Lenore looked him over. "Until your brother is better, you'll be my dog. Since I can't trust Kate, let's see if I can't override her." Lenore opened her wrist with a quick flick of a blade. She held it out to him. "Drink."

Dean shook his head. "Thanks, I've had enough today. Bad for the complexion, you know. Tends to make you pasty." His voice tremored as he felt an unnamed terror well inside of him. The vampire in him wanted no part of any vampiric blood that wasn't his sire's.

"Kate!" Thompson threatened.

Kate snarled. "Feed from her," she ordered sullenly.

Dean's hands shook as he slowly reached out to Lenore's arm. He hesitated and he looked over at Kate again.

"Do it!" Kate ordered him.

Dean obeyed. He waited for Lenore to pull her arm away as Kate had always done, but Lenore let him drink his fill. Giddiness swept over him momentarily and he looked at Lenore adoringly. She reached through and stroked his cheek. "If Kate comes near you or your brother, I want you to rip her throat out."

Dean nodded. "Of course."

"And you will not feed on your brother. No matter the bloodlust, he's not yours to take. In fact, you'll protect him from anyone not of my family."

"I won't touch him. I'll protect him," Dean repeated, having no choice but to obey her. The human in him wanted to kiss Lenore. So _she_ was Sammy's plan. He wondered briefly, if it turned out that he couldn't be brought back to human, if his bloodlust could be handled with cow's blood. Maybe, just maybe, Sam wouldn't have to kill him. Maybe he could be like Lenore and her family. Maybe he could learn to control it. If nothing could kill him shy of beheading, maybe there would be some advantages. For the first time in too many days, he felt that his world might not be as totally screwed as he had figured.

"Shelly," Lenore said, "Get him enough to cool his bloodlust. I need to tend to our food."

Shelly came forward, took hold of the chains connected to his shackles and led Dean away to other cages. Lenore opened Sam's cage and went to him. She knelt and felt for a pulse. It was weak and growing weaker. His brother had taken too much. Sam was dying. She only had one choice and it was a slim one.

She finished the bandaging that Dean had started, and removed the restricting band. She confirmed the bleeding was under control. Next, she rubbed her arm above where she'd cut it for Dean, to get the blood flowing again, and put her own lips to it. She sucked her blood into her mouth and then kissed Sam, pushing the blood into his mouth as she sat him up. The virus would be absorbed in the mouth and just had to get him through the next rocky few hours.

She waited, hiding her fondness for Sam in the anger she felt for Kate and what Kate had done. They'd been only a few hours from escape. Now Lenore wasn't sure they could risk leaving today. She glanced over at Dean's empty cage. She also wasn't sure Dean could afford staying another day. Especially with her blood in him. She was old enough, her virus strong enough, that there might be no coming back for Dean at this point. Sam, on the other hand, probably wouldn't have any problem. She doubted the virus would even take hold. She could taste the demon in him. It was an exotic spice that flavored his blood deliciously. Seconds later his eyes fluttered open.

"What ..?" Sam asked, confused.

"You've just been elevated from food to vampire."

Sam's eyes widened in horror but when he tried to move, his limbs felt like lead.

"I couldn't have my food die from blood loss. You need to drink a little more if you want to live."

Sam's lip curled in disgust and his gaze went from her offered wrist to her face. Her face remained stone. "No choice. Eat or die."

Sam hesitated then did as she asked. The thick liquid was disgusting and roiled in his stomach. A strange relaxing feeling swept over him suddenly, followed by a hunger that cramped his stomach. He felt his heart thump irregularly in his chest. A smile crawled to Lenore's lips and she waved Eli in with a woman. She took her wrist away from Sam and offered him the woman's. "Drink," she told him.

Sam gave the woman a sorrowed look, but the woman seemed oblivious to him. Again, he did as Lenore told him. He'd told her he trusted her completely. He prayed she had a good plan. He prayed she was willing to take care of two newly turned vampires and bring them back. Then again, he'd been immune to one demonic virus. Would he be immune to this one as well? Or had he just been lucky and dodged a bullet as the doctor had said?

Sam stopped drinking and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut when he thought he was going to throw up. He felt so weak he could hardly move.

"Sleep, Sam," Lenore told him.

"Will I live?" Sam asked her softly. At the moment, he wasn't entirely sure he would.

"I don't know. We'll know in an hour or so if it was enough. You'll either sleep and get stronger, or sleep and just not wake up, though it may take a few days to be certain you'll pull through this."

Sam said, "I'll do anything you ask. Just protect my brother."

Lenore considered then gave a slow nod. "Considering Kate wants him dead? You can be assured that he'll live if you die because of what she did."

Sam fought against the sleep, but its pull was too strong. Lenore got up and left him there.

The other vampires watched and waited for her. Her gaze roved over them. "We'll know probably by this time tomorrow." She stalked up to Kate. "I'd had plans to slowly drink him dry. Now he's ruined for food." She slapped her. "I've decided I'm keeping your dog. With both hunters in my family, I don't imagine I'll ever have to worry again about losing those I love."

Thompson cleared his throat. "You only have claim on the dog if yours dies."

Lenore spun on him. "She took my kill!" she fumed. "I've full rights to take hers!"

Thompson looked between the two women. "Let's see if he survives. If he does, you may not get to drain him, but you can still extract exquisite suffering and finally his life. You will still have your kill."

She gave Kate a final withering glare. "You come near either of my dogs and I'll drain you myself," she hissed. She turned on her heel and walked over to join Eli. She announced loudly. "I'm sleeping here, next to my dogs, since a certain bitch in heat can't leave well enough alone."

"I'll get our cots," Eli said.

"No, Eli. Just mine. You can take the later watch."

Eli frowned and ran his hand over her hair. "You're weak; you fed two. You shouldn't be alone."

"I'll be fine," she reassured him. "I'm going to go feed. Stay with my new dog until I get back."

He rested a hand on her arm. "He killed our family, but you like him, don't you?"

She grinned and shrugged. "What's done is done. If Shelly wants him for herself, it would be justice that's he's the first new member of the family, don't you think?"

Eli laughed and shook his head. "No wonder I love you. You can be so twisted."


	10. Chapter 10

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 10_

A vigorous shaking of his shoulders roused Dean. He started to say something but a hand clamped over his mouth stopped him. He opened his eyes, angry, and drew his fist back. Lenore leaned over him.

"Shh, Dean," she whispered and took her hand from his mouth. "Are you lucid?"

Dean gave a hesitant nod. He felt nauseous and his head throbbed. He really just wanted to go back to sleep.

"It's time to go. Kate's too dangerous and Thompson may not side with me." She unlocked his shackles and quietly set them on the ground.

"So you're my boss now?" Dean asked. He knew whatever she asked, he'd do. He could feel it and knew he had no choice. He rubbed his raw wrists.

She handed him a tranquilizer rifle. "Yes, but I don't think you'll mind this next order. The darts are filled with deadman's blood. Why don't you go shoot as many vampires as you can before someone raises an alarm? Though not me, Shelly or Eli, of course." She handed him three extra clips, five darts in each.

Dean grinned. "You're shitting me."

She smiled back. "No. Eli and Shelly are handling the house. You and I are taking down the barn."

"Sam?" Dean asked, sudden concern filling him. When he'd come back with Shelly, Shelly had assured him Sam was still alive. He looked over to the next cage. He didn't think Sam had moved since last night.

"He's very, very weak. I can't promise anything yet. But I can guarantee we're dead meat if we don't move and move fast." She handed him a machete. "Shoot first, then go back and finish them off. No witnesses."

"I can do that," Dean said and snapped the machete's sheath to a belt loop of his jeans. He got to his feet and after a final glance at his sleeping brother, he strode out of the cage, ready to call down some much desired Winchester vengeance.

He walked out among the sleeping vampires and chose a location. Lenore was across the barn. He waited for her signal. She gave him a nod and he began firing the darts into the sleeping vampires. The darts struck, vampires convulsed in sudden pain, but hardly a sound was made other than the "whump" of the gun each time a dart fired. Dean had shot four and was taking aim on the fifth when one of the people in the cages let out a horrendous cry; vampires began stirring. Dean fired the last dart from the cartridge but didn't have time to reload before vampires began coming at him. He knew running was not an option as it had been at Luther's place. He had to stay and fight. He had to make sure Sammy got out of here.

Dean cold-cocked a vampire up side the head with the rifle butt. Another vampire sucker-punched Dean and he staggered. He drew the machete and beheaded the vampire in a single arc of metal and blood. He grinned when he realized it was Suzanne.

"Guess you were first instead of third, Bitch," he practically crowed. He turned to the one he'd cold-cocked; the vampire was slowly getting to his feet. Dean brought the blade down and finished him off. The two remaining on his side bolted for the door. He hastily changed out gun cartridges and managed to nail one in the back with a dart. The woman fell. The man made it out the door and into the afternoon sun before Dean could get off the next shot.

Dean looked over at Lenore just in time to see her behead a vampire. He saw someone getting ready to jump her and he brought his rifle up to his shoulder, aimed, and shot. The man fell. Lenore spun out the way of another attack and her blade sang through the air. The head of her attacker landed ten feet from its body.

Lenore turned to the cages and shot the one who had raised the alarm. Dean scanned the barn. He didn't see any others and focused his attention on the vampires he'd shot and quickly dispatched them. When he was done, he joined Lenore. He realized everyone in the cages except Sam was dead.

"Finish beheading the others," Lenore said, waving to the vampires on her side of the barn.

"You killed the prisoners?" Dean asked, shocked.

"We don't have time to sort the dogs from the food and we can't afford to leave any vampire alive. They would hunt my family down, and certainly go after you and Sam. This is a betrayal none of us would survive. The new food is in a shack between here and the house. We'll leave them for the police."

"But—" Dean began.

She gave him a hard look. "It's already done. Finish off the other vampires," she ordered.

Dean took a last look at the people lying in pools of blood and turned from them. He set his jaw and did as she ordered.

When he returned to her side, he found her in Sam's cage unlocking Sam's shackle. Dean stared at his sleeping form and tried to forget the memory of himself crouched at Sam's arm sucking the life out of his little brother.

"Carry him outside to the tan Protégé. Set him in back." She rested a light hand on his shoulder. "The sun's going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, Dean. Be ready for it."

"I thought it just felt like a bad sunburn."

"More like getting into a hot shower when you have a really bad sun burn."

Dean winced, recalling the time he'd come back from a rock concert, his back and chest lobster red from the sun. He'd been in sunburn hell for five days. "Super," Dean muttered.

Dean put the machete back in its sheath, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and then swept his brother into his arms, wanting to forget that he'd done this to him. Sam's breathing was shallow, but he was breathing. Dean headed for the door. He blinked back his tears. If Sam died—Dean shuddered. No, he couldn't live with himself if Sam died because of his weakness. Sam had to live. He had to. He held his brother a little tighter, as if willing his own life into him.

When Dean stepped outside with his load, he practically staggered as the sun's rays caressed him.

"Damn!" Dean cursed, wanting nothing more than to get out of the sun's burning light. He spotted the Protégé and hurried over to it. After getting the back door open, he laid his brother gently in the back seat and shut the door. He turned in time to see Lenore light a match and toss it to the ground. Flames licked up the side of the barn.

Noises of fighting erupted from the house. A man sailed out the second story window, a dart in his neck. Lenore strode forward and finished him. She glanced back at Dean. "C'mon, hunter. Time to earn your freedom."

He broke into a run and joined her step-for-step as they went up the back stairs of the house and across the porch. Lenore slammed the door with the heel of her hand and it shattered inward, splinters flying.

"I've got the right," Lenore said and disappeared that way through a doorway. Dean went straight and kicked open the swinging door. A vampire was headed at him full tilt. He fired point blank into her chest. She fell in a convulsing heap. He realized it was Darlene, Kate's friend and his occasional tormentor. "No snacking today, darling Darlene," Dean said as he drew his machete and beheaded her.

He strode further into the house. He paused inside the dining room to listen. Sounds of fighting came from upstairs as well as from a room off to his left. He peered through the doorway and saw Shelly getting the shit kicked out of her by the vampire that had escaped the barn. Dean put a dart into him and went to Shelly's side. "You okay?" he asked and offered her a hand up.

"Yeah," she said. Her lip was split wide and a deep gash ran along her forehead. She snatched his machete from him and finished off the vampire. "Always hated Marcus," she growled. "He was always grabbing my ass."

"Is Sam okay?" she asked as she handed back his machete, then retrieved her own from the floor beside the dresser.

"He's alive for now. That's the best I've got," Dean said.

She grinned. "Alive is good. He's strong."

"But your family drank from him, then I…"

"We took very little. Lenore's the only one who really drank from him in the last day. Lenore got to him quickly. He's got a real good chance of making it through this." She saw his concerned looked. "He'll be okay."

"Where are Kate and Thompson?" Dean asked, trying to hide the fear that she might be wrong.

"They were upstairs. I'm not sure if they still are. You can't go up against Kate, Dean," she told him firmly.

"Why not?" Dean asked, his anger flaring. He wanted a piece of that bitch's scrawny ass after everything she'd done to him and his brother.

"Because I still have sway over you," Kate said from the doorway. "Shoot her."

Dean found himself bringing the gun's muzzle around toward Shelly before he even realized it. She dove behind the bed and the dart buried its needle into the wall.

"Do what it takes to kill her," Kate ordered.

Dean tried to control himself, but his feet had other ideas and he walked forward, the gun at ready. He tried to hang on to the order Lenore had given him; Shelly wasn't to be shot, but Kate's control was simply too strong and he couldn't stop himself. When he got to the other side of the bed, Shelly wasn't there. She scrambled from beneath the bed and ran for the door. His dart hit her square in the back and she collapsed, her back arched against the pain. He tossed the empty gun aside and pulled out his machete.

_No!_ he told himself, fighting against Kate's orders but his body wouldn't obey him. He walked up to Shelly and raised the machete, trying to resist every movement he made.

"Stop, Dean!" Lenore screeched from the stairs.

Dean froze, unable to move. He closed his eyes in relief.

Lenore came to his side. "You will protect Shelly, Eli, and me. You will not harm any of us."

Dean felt some modicum of control seep back into his body.

"Kate, she's getting away," Dean managed to say as he found he could lower the arm with the machete.

"Look after Shelly," Lenore said and charged after Kate.

He reached down and pulled the dart out of Shelly's back then walked over to the wall. He was still Kate's bitch. He let out with a wail of fury and punched clean through the thin wall. His hand came back plaster covered.

"I'm sorry, Shelly," Dean said as he returned to her side and picked her up. Her eyes were rolled back and she was gasping against the potent poison that burned in her veins like fire.

Lenore saw Kate at the Protégé, awkwardly pulling Sam out of the back seat using her one good arm. Lenore's stride lengthened.

Kate whirled on her, Sam in a headlock that would allow her to snap his neck with hardly an effort.

"I'll kill him," she said.

"Go ahead. He's just a dog to me," Lenore said, raising the rifle to take aim on Kate. Kate shifted so Sam's body offered her some protection.

"Bullshit. You armed his brother. This is a rescue. Why, Lenore?" Kate demanded. "Why would you turn on your own?"

"Because our ways have to change if we're to survive. Dean and Sam saved my life. They protected and saved my family. They've told other hunters to pass us over and the hunters have. If you don't hunt humans, Dean and Sam aren't your enemy."

"So you feed on animals?" Kate sneered.

"It's disgusting, but we're alive because of it. And we intend to stay alive."

"They killed my family! They killed my mate! They deserve to die!" Kate said. She tightened her hold on Sam. Sam stirred, the chokehold snaking through to his consciousness. His eyes opened as he gasped for air and he tried to pull her arm away. Failing in that, his fingers tore open the bandage on his arm and he pulled out the syringe of deadman's blood he'd planned to use on Dean. He buried it in her arm.

"What the fu—" Kate began and felt the burning in her arm. When Sam felt her hold loosen, he pulled away from her, falling to the ground. Kate ripped the syringe from her arm and looked up as Lenore squeezed the trigger. The dart embedded itself in her throat. She let out a terrible gurgle and collapsed. Lenore hurried to Sam.

"Sam?" she asked worriedly

Sam's eyes looked a little glazed. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm alive. I think."

"Hang in there, Sam," Lenore said.

Lenore turned to Kate and raised her machete.

"No!" Dean shouted at her as he ran toward her.

She paused and turned warily, fearing Kate's control might still be strong enough he intended to try to stop her from beheading the woman.

"She's mine," Dean said stopping by Lenore's side, a dark look in his eyes.

Lenore hesitated. "Are you sure you can do it?"

Dean looked over at Sam then back at Lenore. "Oh, yeah."

Lenore stepped back and gestured him forward.

Dean looked down at Kate and with a satisfied smile, started to bring the machete down. His arm wouldn't lower.

"No, dammit," Dean growled. He dug up every bit of anger he could but it still wasn't enough. He howled in frustration.

"Dean," Lenore said. "Kill Kate."

Dean felt his will strengthen and the resistance in his muscles weakened. He brought his blade down with a triumphant shout, finishing off his tormentor and almost sire.

Eli walked up to stand beside Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"I take it you're on our side?" Dean asked.

"No, I thought I'd come over here so you could behead me easier," Eli said sarcastically. He handed Dean his coat. "Thought you might want it back. I found your cell phone and wallet too. They're in the inside pocket. The cell phone's battery is missing, but it looks intact otherwise."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Dude, I so owe you. I love this coat." Dean slipped the coat on, and breathed a sigh of relief. The sun couldn't get through the leather and he no longer felt like a steak on a grill.

Eli walked over to Lenore and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's done."

"Thompson?" Lenore asked hopefully.

Eli gave a sigh. "He got away."

Lenore closed her eyes. "Damn." She looked over his shoulder and saw the house begin to go up in flames. She saw Shelly leaning against a car twenty feet away. "Let's get out of here."

She helped Dean get Sam back into of the Protégé and then helped Shelly in beside him. Eli drove, Lenore sat shotgun, and Sam, Shelly and Dean were crammed in the back seat.

Near the end of the driveway they saw someone sitting in the shade of a large maple tree. Eli slowed the car. "It's Detroit."

Lenore jumped out and hurried over to him. He looked up at her smiling, giving her a smile the likes of which she'd never seen before. At least not on the face of the tormented almost-priest.

"Are you okay?" she asked, puzzled.

Detroit jerked a thumb over his shoulder. She looked where he indicated. Thompson lay in the shade, his head separated from his body by a good five feet. "Oh, I'm better than okay," Detroit said. "I'm free."

Lenore smiled, relief washing over her. She helped him to his feet and hugged him. "Good job. Where's the Impala?"

"Over there," he said, waving to a line of tall lilac bushes.

They walked back to the Protégé together. Lenore put a hand on his arm. "Shelly got a dose of deadman's blood," Lenore said. Fear flickered across Detroit's face. "She should be just fine in a few hours, a little weak and nauseous, but fine," she reassured him.

Detroit left Lenore's side and ran to the Protégé. Eli told Dean Detroit was Shelly's mate and to let Detroit in by her. Dean got out of the back seat, feeling guilty at seeing the fear on Detroit's face. Lenore walked around to Eli and leaned down. He rolled down the window.

"Eli, get to Nick's house. Dean and I will bring the other car." She looked in back at Detroit. "Keys?"

"In the ignition," Detroit said, cradling Shelly in his arms. He stroked her face, worry and concern reflected in his own.

Lenore turned to Dean. "Come on. We'll take your car," she said.

"I'm not leaving Sam," Dean said, daring her to order him to do so.

Lenore folded her arms across her chest. "Really? Tell me Dean, are you getting hungry?"

Dean blinked. He felt the bloodlust tickling the back of his mind. He gave a shrug. "A little, I guess."

"Then bringing Sam in the same car as us probably isn't such a good idea, now is it?"

"But what if one of them gets…."

"We can control our hunger. Can you?" she challenged.

Dean stared at the ground. He couldn't. He was a danger to his own brother. Again. He leaned down and looked in the back seat of the car. Sam was asleep against the door, his mop of brown hair sticking up every which way. He looked too pale, Dean thought.

"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asked quietly.

"I can't promise anything. But the sooner we get to Nick's, the better his chances are if he starts to go down hill."

Dean buried the pain of leaving his brother with strangers, vampire strangers. Never mind they'd risked everything to save him. He should be the one driving Sam to safety. Dean schooled his face and gave a sharp nod. "Then let's get the hell out of here. The fire department probably isn't that far off."

Lenore waved Eli on and led Dean over to the bushes where the Impala was concealed. Dean ran a loving hand along her fender before getting in the driver's seat. Lenore slid in on the passenger's side. Dean cranked the engine, pulled onto the gravel driveway, and quickly caught up with Eli.

"Am I too far gone to save?" Dean finally asked Lenore after they'd been on the road for a while.

She looked over, studying him for a minute. She turned back to stare out the front window. "I don't know. We can attempt to kill the virus though that will be extremely painful for you and there's a good chance you won't survive. Alternately, we can complete the turning but there's no guarantee that you'll be able to stomach cow's blood over human. It's rather unpleasant tasting. Rather like an ice cream shake that's been sitting in a hot car for three days. Regardless, you have to decide. What do you want to do?"

Dean felt the burn of the sun's rays on his face and didn't answer.


	11. Chapter 11

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 11_

Lenore and Dean made small talk, mostly discussing rock bands and music during the drive. Lenore approved whole-heartedly of Dean's collection of tapes and told him of concerts she'd attended through the years.

Dean tried not to squirm in the driver's seat, but the sun was an uncomfortable reminder that he was no longer entirely human. The side of his face and his hands felt like they were in an oven. The leather coat kept the sun's rays off his arms and chest, but it was hot enough he almost wanted to take the coat off.

"Isn't this sun just driving you freaking buggy?" Dean asked, pulling his left hand off the steering wheel and getting it in the shade for a few minutes. He looked down at it, convinced it was sunburned, but it was a disturbing pale white.

She laughed. "Well, one advantage to cow's blood is that we don't seem quite as sensitive to the sun. Besides, after a few hundred years, the sun just doesn't seem to hurt as much as it use to."

"How old are you?" Dean asked. She'd talked of attending concerts by some of the jazz greats so he figured her at least approaching a hundred.

She settled a little further back in the seat. "I was born in the mid-thirteenth century in a little town in England."

Dean gave a sidelong glance, reappraising her. "You look good for a 650 year old, Lenore."

She grinned back at him. "Well thank you, Dean."

"So when did you switch to cow's blood?"

"I've fed on and off cows since the seventeen hundreds. I finally went 'vegetarian' about twenty years ago."

"Vegetarian?" Dean laughed. "That's a new definition for the term. Why? Got tired of killing people?"

Lenore chuckled. "Oh nothing so moral as that. You hunters have brought my kind to the brink of extinction. In the old days, hunters were few, they couldn't get places fast, and news was slow. In the modern world, vampires are easy to find what with the news and the internet and cars and planes. It was purely a tactic for survival. As it had always been." She looked over at Dean. "If not for hunters, I'd probably still happily be drinking humans dry."

Dean was silent as he contemplated her words. He debated, not wanting to offend her—she'd saved both him and Sam, after all—but plowed forward anyhow. "You know, Sam and I, we hunt evil. We placed you in the category of 'not evil' after your show with Gordan and after you let Sam live."

"And now you're not so sure after what I've said?" Lenore said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Dean gave a half shrug. "Well, your words don't exactly inspire confidence in that decision."

She laughed, delighted. "Rest assured, Dean, we don't intend to go back to drinking human blood. Not intentionally, anyhow. I'll admit, cow's blood is about as disgusting as drinking pond scum, but the trade off is worth it. We don't have to worry as much about hunters, and those of us with anything still resembling a conscience find it a better way to live. We can finally fit into society in a way we couldn't before. We can put down roots, after a fashion, and after centuries on constantly being on the move, it's nice to stop and rest and enjoy the world. It's nice to work a job and make money instead of stealing it. It's better, at least for now. Can we stay vegetarian for the rest of our lives? I hope so. We've come to prefer the quieter life, even at the price of god-awful food for eternity. The craving for human blood eventually eases, but it's always there."

"I've never felt anything like this hunger," Dean admitted. "I don't know how you fight it."

"Practice. But we have our limits. Starve us and we'll kill anything to ease the hunger. As you've seen."

Dean shuddered. "Yes," he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes. The Protégé's license plate number had since been burned into his brain. And Eli drove the speed limit. Annoyingly, exactly, the speed limit. "How much further?" he asked, changing the subject so he didn't have to think about what he'd done to his brother to ease that terrible hunger.

"Oh, maybe an hour."

Good for her word, an hour later they followed the Protégé down a long, dirt driveway that led to a blue, two-story farmhouse. When Dean shut off the ignition, Lenore turned to him.

"You stay in the car until we get Sam inside."

"But—" Dean began.

"No," she said firmly. "He's not safe around you right now. You might not feel it at the moment, but sometimes the bloodlust can explode inside you and even I might not be able to stop you. Especially because Sam's blood is … uncommonly enriching."

"Why aren't we taking him to a hospital?" he asked, still worried that Sam was far too weak.

Lenore's lips pursed. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to tell him but saw only the truth would satisfy him. "That would be unwise. They would give him blood. I had to feed him some of my blood."

"You turned my brother?" Dean exploded.

"I had no choice. It was that or he was going to die. You took too much from him," she said coldly.

Dean looked away from her, her words cutting him to his soul. He almost killed his brother. And now Sam was walking the same damned path as he was, on the way to becoming a vampire.

"I had to get fluid back into him and that was the only way," she explained. "He drank from me, then from one of the food. We have his blood type on hand if he takes a turn for the worst, but it would be best if he pulls through on his own. If any of the vampiric virus is left, a transfusion of fresh blood might give it strength to multiply. We can't risk a hospital."

"It's a demonic virus, right?" he asked, trying to squelch his anger. It was his fault, not hers. She'd done it to save Sam.

She gave him a small smile. "Yes, and he is likely immune to it. Unless he were to ingest more of my blood, he should be just fine."

"Why would you say he's immune?" he asked warily.

Lenore shrugged. "He's demon-taint to him. Possession, exposure to a different virus, something, but it's in his blood. I would be surprised if he wasn't immune, though it's possible."

Dean chewed this over and asked hesitantly. "But he's not demon, right?"

"If he were, his blood would be useless to us," she reassured him.

Dean felt some unnamed fear uncoil in him. He sighed. "Okay. Let me know when I can come in. I can't wait to get out of this damned sun."

Lenore got out of the car and joined the others. Dean watched anxiously as they helped Sam out. He was relieved to see Sam was conscious and able to help himself a little. Sam looked over at Dean and gave him a weak, lopsided grin as he leaned on Detroit and Eli. Dean raised a hand and grinned back, feeling better. Sam didn't hate him. Sam was going to be okay. Even if he ended up a vampire, he could deal so long as his brother was okay. A few minutes later Lenore reappeared in the doorway and waved Dean in.

"Finally," Dean murmured and hurried out of the painful sunshine. He went into the house and found himself in the kitchen. Five new faces watched him from the table. Lenore was leaning against a cabinet.

"This is the rest of our family, Dean. You never got to meet them because you were keeping Gordan tied up."

Dean gave a slight smile and nod to each. "Nice to meet you all," Dean said, feeling awkward. He turned to Lenore. "How's Sam doing?"

"Weak. He fell right back asleep. But he appears to be getting stronger. He's not out of the woods yet, but I'd wager he'll be just fine."

Dean winced as his stomach cramped. The pain tripled and he fell to his knees gasping, clutching his stomach. Ravenous hunger electrified him. The smell assaulted him and he realized someone in the room was human, the scent of human fanning his bloodlust.

Lenore shooed the others out of the kitchen and then came over to him, picking up a knife on the way. She cut her wrist and proffered it to him. Dean didn't even think, having her arm to his mouth as soon as it was offered. The pain eased almost immediately. As soon as Lenore saw the tension relax in Dean, she pulled her arm away from his clutching hands. He reached out for her arm, anguish in his eyes.

"No, please," he moaned.

"Dean, is that enough to get you through for a little while?" Lenore asked gently.

Dean found himself on his knees the taste of delicious blood in his mouth. He saw that he'd only drank from Lenore's offered arm and relief swelled in him.

"Is that enough?" she asked again.

Dean laughed bitterly, staring longingly at her arm and the blood still seeping from the wound. "Would you give me more if I said it wasn't?"

"Not just yet. Eli, would you get Dean something to drink?" Lenore called out. She helped Dean to his feet and motioned him into a chair at the table.

"Already on it," Eli called from the other room.

Dean ground his teeth. He felt the hunger gnawing in the back of his mind. He looked again at Lenore's arm and forced himself to stay in the seat.

"We'll have you blood in just a minute, Dean. Fight it back." Lenore told him as she wrapped the wound. It would be healed by evening and she only covered it in an effort to help Dean.

Dean nodded but clenched and unclenched his fist, his eyes still on her arm. "Lenore," he said softly, "I'm still so hungry. Please, just a little more."

Lenore gave him an understanding smile. "Patience. I know it's hard."

Dean laid his head down on the cool table, struggling against the fire in his stomach. He couldn't help himself and slid out of the chair to fall on his knees at her feet. "Please, Mistress," he begged. "Please. It hurts."

Lenore ran her hand through his hair. "I know, Dean. I know. Eli will have some blood for you in just a minute. That will help. I promise."

Dean's eyes remained locked on the bandaged arm. He started to reach for it.

"Stop it," Lenore ordered him, her voicing turning hard and commanding. "Sit back down at the table."

Dean winced and did as she said. He ran his hands over the tabletop, trying to ignore the craving. Her order was all that kept him in the chair.

Eli came in with a large glass of blood and handed it to Dean. "This should be enough for a short while."

Dean accepted the glass anxiously; its contents were still warm. The aroma was heavenly. He couldn't get the glass to his mouth fast enough and quickly downed it. It felt like they'd offered a package of crackers when he wanted a three-course meal, but he could tell the edge had been taken off his bloodlust. His head cleared some and he felt more in control of himself.

"That was human blood," Dean said. "A woman's."

"Yes. We have arrangements with some humans who owe us favors." She nodded her thanks to Eli and with a jerk of her head, indicated for him to leave. His gaze lingered worriedly on her, but he went through the door after she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Favors? What kind of favors?"

"Nick, for example. He was the black-haired gentleman in the motorcycle tee sitting in here. He's not technically a member of my immediate family, but part of my extended family now."

Dean remembered him and the tee. It was a Harley t-shirt with a 2006 chromed out soft-tail on it. A sweet ride.

"Nick had cancer. He and his wife found us. We fed Nick small amounts of my blood for nine days before bringing him back to human. He still has cancer, but it is in remission. The agreement, regardless if Nick survived, was that his wife would allow us to take blood, via needles, not teeth, from her if we were in need. She and Nick are in the other room. Nick, of course, is also available for blood donation."

"He's the one I smelled," Dean said.

"Yes." Lenore paused then said, "Dean, you're very close, if not already, at the point of no return. I didn't let you drink very much from me and we didn't give you very much blood. The bloodlust will come back and very soon, but I needed you lucid. As I told you in the car, you need to choose, and choose soon. We can attempt to bring you back to human. It will be excruciatingly painful. You may not survive. As far along as you are, I would guess you've got about a twenty percent chance of surviving it."

"And my alternative?" Dean asked tightly.

"You can choose for us to finish the turning. In a little over a month, you'll be a full vampire, able to feed on your own, and not under my control. There is no guarantee that you'll be able to control your bloodlust. There is no guarantee that you will be able to survive on cattle blood, and likely not initially. You'll have all the vampire weaknesses and strengths. You'll age very slowly, nothing short of beheading or deadman's blood will kill you, and you'll be very strong. But you will need blood to live." Lenore paused again then asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Twenty percent chance, huh?" Dean said. He ran his fingers over the yellow laminate of the tabletop. The vampire in him begged for its next meal. The blood had become like nectar, or at least, the best-damned aged whiskey he'd ever tasted. The human in him was repulsed by the idea of living the rest of his life as an undead, bloodsucking parasite. There should be no thought. The choice should be obvious. He should ask to be returned to human. So why was it so hard to say that? Why was he debating it? Hell, even a five percent chance of returning to human and he should jump at it. But he still tasted the blood in his mouth, and it tasted so very good.

"Human," Dean choked out, fighting with himself to even get the word said.

She smiled. "We thought as much. Come on, let's take you down to the basement."

"Why?" Dean asked

"Because you will be a risk to us and yourself while you fight off the virus. We'll do our best, Dean, to get you through this. Now let's hurry before the vampire part of you decides running is the better option."

She led Dean through a door off the kitchen and down into the basement. A metal cage, not unlike that he'd just escaped from, sat empty, its door open and waiting. Dean felt the twist in the pit of his stomach. Every thing in him told him to run. He froze at the bottom of the stairs and began to shake his head as he backed away. "No. I —I can't. No. Turn me. Finish turning me," he begged. Part of his mind rebelled and tried to deny those words and the desire that swelled within him.

Lenore bowed her head. "I understand, Dean," she said softly.

She raised her head and pulled a pistol from inside her coat. Dean heard the "whump" as the gun fired and looked down to where the tranquillizer dart stuck out of his chest. The pain exploded in him and he fell to the floor in agony as the deadman's blood poisoned him. Lenore grabbed him by the forearm, pulled him to his feet, and half-dragged, half-carried him into the cage. She placed padded shackles on his wrists and ankles. The shackles on his wrists had an additional chain between them. She ran a gentle hand along his cheek. "We'll help you through this Dean. You'll survive this. You have to. For Sam. He needs his brother."

She injected another dose of deadman's blood into his arm and he screamed as its cleansing fire burned inside of him.


	12. Chapter 12

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 12_

_It was the yelling that roused him, his brother's voice cursing or calling for help_—Sam sat bolt upright, snapping awake as if icy water had been dumped on him. His gaze darted around the dimly lit room. Yellow curtains with flowers were closed against the gold of morning sunlight that edged its fabric. The room was painted a light color, maybe white, and a floral border ran along the top of the wall. An old wooden dresser was against the wall opposite the wooden-framed bed in which Sam lay. Beside the bed was a white ceramic lamp with a creamy colored cylindrical shade. His bedspread was a quilt made up of swatches of whites and yellows and reds.

Sam heard a rooster crowing, but nothing of his brother. He tried to remember where he was and how he'd ended up naked in a Grandma Moses type room. The last thing he remembered was Dean drinking his blood, slowly killing him.

"Dean," Sam choked out, fear suddenly clutching at him.

The cobwebs of sleep drifted away and more memories trickled in. He vaguely recalled Eli and Detroit helping him up some stairs. His brother…had been sitting in the Impala and had waved at him. He felt his breath leave him. They'd gotten Dean out. Dean was safe. He might be a vampire—Jesus, how the hell were they going to deal with _that_?—but at least he was …alive?

"One step at a time, Sam," he told himself, his voice a mere whisper. On the dresser across from the foot of the bed, he saw his clothes neatly stacked. He staggered to his feet and lurched to the dresser, leaning heavily on it for balance. He tossed his clothes on the bed, and then stumbled his way back to the mattress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his clothes on. Once dressed, he stood, but his head swam and he staggered and fell back onto the soft bed.

"Crap!" Sam muttered. He lay there a moment, letting his lightheadedness fade. He sat up slowly and carefully got to his feet and this time met with success. Walking gingerly across the room to the wooden door, he twisted the enameled doorknob and pushed the door open. Soft voices drifted in to him. Following the sound, he found himself at the top of a long set of steep stairs, old green shag carpet tacked to the middle of each step.

"Oh, swell," Sam muttered and, with a death grip on the old wooden banister, took one step at a time, not wanting to take a header down the stairs.

Steadying himself with the wall, he walked toward the source of the voices and found the living room. Six people were inside, two asleep on the checker-patterned couch and four chatting between themselves from comfy chairs. The drapes on the windows were a faded blue and a sun-catcher of a hummingbird spilled a circle of bright colors onto the oak flooring. He looked at the faces he didn't recognize and cleared his throat.

"Hello?" Sam said tentatively.

A woman with bright blue eyes, short brown hair, and dressed in a spaghetti string top and faded jeans, smiled at him. "Sam, you should have called out and let us know you were awake. Are you hungry? I've got some pancake batter all ready for cooking, or there's some cornbread in there if you don't want to wait."

Sam felt drained from just the short walk and staggered over to an empty chair where he collapsed. "My brother. Dean. I thought I heard him."

The woman gave a terse nod. "Oh yes. Mr. Scream-All-Night." She saw Sam's startle looked. "He wants blood, Sam," she said gently then gave him a smirk. "And he lets everyone in the house know it. Again, and again and again. He sure has a nasty mouth on him. I had to look up a few of the things he called me last time I gave him his medicine."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. I don't know who any of you are. And I'm really confused. Where's my brother? Where are Lenore, Eli, Shelly and Detroit?"

The woman laughed, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Sam. We've been in and out of your room taking care of you, but you've been pretty out of it since you've been here. I shouldn't be surprised you don't remember who we are. I'm Anya. This is my husband Nick," she indicated a dark-haired man to her right dressed in a Styx concert T-shirt and jeans, then pointed to a slighter version of Nick and the petite blond beside him, "his brother James, his wife Marcie, and that's Ben and Alicia, my sister, asleep on the couch. Your brother is downstairs with Lenore and her family. He's doing as well as can be expected, I guess. He's not doing as well as Nick did coming out of the vampirism," she squeezed her husband's hand, "but Dean has a lot more virus in him. Lenore, Eli and Shelly are all trying to get past the craving for human blood, so they're locked up too. Would you like to go down and see them? They're probably just getting ready to sleep."

"What time is it?" Sam asked, trying to take in everything she said. His thoughts felt sluggish and nothing but bits and pieces seemed to stick.

"I don't know. Maybe 6:30 am."

"How long have I—"

"Three days," Nick said and pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to Sam. "C'mon, let's get you down to see your brother. I imagine you're worried sick about him. I know I would be if it were James down there. It's about time for his next dose, anyhow." Nick helped Sam to his feet and offered him a steadying arm.

"Dose?" Sam asked, hating that he needed Nick's help, but feeling too weak to try to manage without it.

"Of deadman's blood." He waved to a different door. "Into the kitchen and then I'll help you downstairs."

"Are you all vampires?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Nick laughed. "No, none of us are, but we owe Lenore and her family my life. We made a bargain, our blood when they need it, for their attempt to cure my cancer."

Sam twisted his head to look at Anya then back at Nick. "So they turned you, then brought you back."

Nick shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. The docs had pretty much done all they could, gave me a few months at most. I know they don't look it, but Ben and Alicia are into some pretty strange scenes in the city. Goth, vampirism, all of that. Alicia told Anya about some vampires that might be able to help." Nick laughed. "Anya and I figured she meant, you know, the human vampires that do that sort of thing. Ben is one. He craves blood. But he's _human_. We didn't think there were honest-to-God, fanged-and-all vampires that lived _only_ on blood."

Nick pushed open the door that led to the kitchen. The lingering aroma of bacon, sausage, maple syrup, and cornbread filled the room. Dirty plates were stacked in the sink. Sam saw the mixer's beaters with the remnants of pancake batter still clinging to their metal strips. The food smelled good to Sam and he realized his was both thirsty and famished.

"So, with their help, we found Lenore and her family. My cancer's not gone, but it's been in remission for five years now." Nick picked up a tranquilizer dart lying on the kitchen counter and slid it into his shirt pocket. He saw Sam's gaze linger on the cornbread.

"Here, lean on the table a minute," Nick said and once Sam shifted his weight to the yellow laminate table, Nick went over to the cupboard and took out a glass. He filled it a quarter full with water, then poured orange juice in it from a pitcher. He set it in front of Sam. "Too acidic for an empty stomach unless you water it down a bit."

Sam lifted the glass to his lips and downed about a third, watching as Nick cut off a hunk of the cornbread, slid it into the microwave for fifteen seconds, then pulled it out and set it on the table. Sam devoured the bread quickly and finished off his watered-down orange juice.

"More?" Nick asked.

Sam shook his head. "Not until I see Dean," Sam said, feeling guilty for the few minutes he'd paused to eat. He had to admit, the food seemed to help clear his head and he felt a little stronger as the calories began to get into his system.

"Anya will fix you a proper meal when you're ready for it. She's the best cook in the county if you ask me." Nick said with a wink as he tossed down a few crumbles of cornbread. "You ready for more stairs?"

Sam's brow lifted as he sighed. "I guess I don't have a choice."

"Not if you want to see your brother," Nick said as he guided Sam to the steep basement stairs and walked down them in front of him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. As before, Sam took them slowly, step by individual step.

The full basement stretched the length of the house. Sam saw a handful of people lounging in chairs and couches about halfway down the basement. Not too far from the stairs, he saw a cage with someone sitting inside.

"Dean?" Sam asked, hurrying toward the cage. Nick grabbed his arm. "Easy there, Sam. Don't get too close. He's hungry."

Dean stood up, his chains rattling. "Sam? Sam! Get me the hell out of here!"

Sam looked in on his brother; Dean looked gaunt and pale, his green eyes flashing with fury. Padded cuffs were on his ankles and wrists with an additional chain running between the wrist cuffs. Bruises peppered his face and chest. A pillow and bedding were heaped to one side along with some Styrofoam trays and plates and empty water bottles. Sam's gaze went back to Nick.

"He's dangerous, Sam. The cage is safest for everyone."

"C'mon, Sam!" Dean said. "Clock him already and get me out of here!"

Sam saw Nick slide the dart into a pistol he picked up from a table. Nick moved a little closer to take aim.

"No-no-no-no!" Dean said, backing away from the front of the cage, watching Nick angrily. "Don't you let him shoot me with that, Sammy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam took the gun from Nick. "Give me a minute," Sam said.

Nick looked annoyed, then shrugged. "Sure thing, but give me the gun back. And whatever you do, stay out of his reach. He nailed the hell out of Detroit yesterday. Your brother is one devious son-of-a-bitch. He's gotten out of his chains twice already." He saw the indecision on Sam's face and sighed. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut a small gash in the back of his hand, then squeezed it until a big bubble of blood welled up. Nick showed it to Dean. "Hungry?"

Dean's eyes locked on Nick's hand. He threw himself at the bars and fought with his chains. Creative cussing spewed from him. Nick sucked on the cut and then ran his thumb over it until it was hardly bleeding. He gave Sam a "believe me now" type look.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded his head as he handed the gun back to Nick. Dean began cussing anew.

Sam approached the cage, but kept well out of reach. "Dean? How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling?" Dean snapped. "Get me out of here." Dean paced angrily but kept one eye on Nick and the gun.

"I can't. You're still sick."

"Sammy," Dean begged, "you've got to get me out of here. This is all a trick. They're messing with you. I'm fine."

"You will be, Dean. I'll be with you. I'll help you get through this."

"No," Nick said. "You can't stay down here until Lenore, Eli and Shelly have gotten past their craving for human blood." He pointed to the group of people gathered at the furniture Sam had seen. He realized Lenore, Eli and Shelly were chained to the wall.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, beginning to feel concern. He glanced back at Dean.

"See, Sam? See? Now would you get me out of here?" Dean demanded.

"Is it okay for me to go down there?" Sam asked Nick. He looked at the forty or so feet and winced. He was beyond exhausted and the extra spurt of energy that he'd gotten from the juice and cornbread already seemed used up.

"Sure. C'mon, I'll help you down there." He offered Sam his arm. Sam gratefully accepted the help.

Nick continued. "They're fine, they're just craving human blood. Pretty much have to starve them until they don't have a choice and drink the cow's blood. After about three days of it, they're pretty much back to normal. Lenore's already back to drinking cow's blood, but her craving will probably last longer than the others will. She had more human blood than they did. Stay out of their reach though. You probably won't have a problem, but best not to tempt fate, y'know? Under normal circumstances they'd never hurt you, but right now isn't normal."

"I understand," Sam said.

When they reached the group, he found he remembered most of the faces and associated names from when he'd met them all in Montana. They in turn welcomed him. Detroit moved over so Sam could sit on the couch. Detroit's right wrist and neck were bandaged, and the remnants of a black eye and other bruises on his face were visible.

"Dean did all of that to you?" Sam asked, an apology in his voice.

Detroit snorted. "Afraid so. He's a vicious S.O.B when he's hungry," Detroit said. "My own fault. I thought he was asleep, or at least too sick from the deadman's blood to get up, and I went into his cage to get the dirty trays out. Next thing I know he's whaling on me, had his fingers dug into my wrist and teeth buried in my neck. Took four of the family to get him off me. Unfortunately he got enough blood from me to give him a little bit of a set back. He's getting desperate enough to drink from another vampire that's not his sire. For what it's worth, that's actually a pretty good sign."

"Hello, Sam," Lenore said from where she sat by the wall. Various pillows were piled around her, Eli and Shelly. Shelly was curled up in the blankets softly snoring. Eli was reading a magazine. He glanced up, acknowledged Sam, and then went back to reading.

"Are you doing okay?" Sam asked worry in his face.

She laughed a little. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for another taste of your sweet blood, dear Sam, but I'm managing. It'll be another five days or so until the humans here will be safe from us."

"Lenore, I can't begin to thank you for everything you and your family have gone through for me and my brother." Sam looked around and made sure he made eye contact with each and every member of the family. "You saved both our lives."

"And you saved ours. A fair trade. Perhaps we might be able to even call each other friends?"

Sam nodded and Lenore smiled.

"But Dean's far from out of danger, Sam," Lenore said and her bright smile vanished. "He's hardly begun to go into it. He has a very real chance of not surviving."

Sam swallowed hard. "How bad are his chances?"

"At a guess, _maybe_ twenty percent that he'll survive," Lenore said, not trying to sugarcoat it. She didn't want Sam to think the chances were better than what they were.

"When will we know?" Sam asked softly. He glanced over his shoulder toward Dean.

Lenore shrugged. "Maybe ten days? A full vampire can go a very long time without eating. Dean had a lot of vampire virus get into him, and worse, multiple strains. Kate's, mine, and now he has a third strain in him." She nodded toward Detroit. "Once starved, the stronger strain will feed on the other strains and give itself strength. It's going to get very ugly for him."

"What can I do to help him?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. If you stay near him, it's tantamount to teasing him. You smell," and Lenore took a deep breath, "delicious."

Detroit nudged Sam. "That's your cue to leave. We're getting ready to sleep anyhow. I'll visit tonight when we get up. Best if you just stay upstairs for a few days though."

A pained look came to Sam's face. "But Dean. I can't just sit up there."

"You'll only make it worse for him. You need to stay upstairs. If," Detroit hesitated, "if it looks really bad, we'll let you know. We're right here, keeping an eye on him. And you can maybe sit on the stairs and watch him while he's sleeping, if that would make you feel better." Detroit laid a hand on Sam's arm. "And don't forget, Sam, there's always prayer."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Nick helped him to his feet and they headed slowly back toward Dean.

"Feel better now?" Nick asked, his voice telling Sam Nick clearly understood this was hard on him.

Sam gave him a bit of a smile. "Yes. Kind of." When he got close enough he could see Dean was sitting against the far side of the cage glaring at him. "Dean, I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"

"The hell out of here?" Dean said.

"Soon." He looked at Nick and nodded.

Nick picked the gun back up, eased closer, and fired. Dean tried to slip out of the dart's way, but Nick's aim was good and the dart sank into Dean's shoulder. Dean howled angrily and spewed vicious words addressed to both Nick and Sam as he yanked out the dart and crushed it. Within a few seconds though, Dean collapsed, moaning as the deadman's blood began to work on him.

"Well that's how he's getting out of his chains," Sam said.

"How?" Nick asked anxiously, his eyes going to the cuffs.

"He snapped off the needle of the dart and palmed it."

Dean lifted his head with an effort. "Dammit, shut up, Sam!" he muttered, then his head fell back to the floor and he curled up into a ball.

"Son of a gun. Well, feel like backing me up while I get it from him?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm exhausted. I wouldn't be any good to you." Sam went closer to the cage.

"C'mon, Dean. Hand it over."

"Go screw yourself," Dean muttered.

"Dean!" Sam ordered. "Give it up. Now."

Dean's eyes opened in slits. "Come get it," he hissed.

"You going to try to drain me again, brother?"

"Given another shot, there won't be any try to it." Dean snarled. He began to moan and writhe.

Sam cringed, wishing there was something he could do to help his brother.

Dean suddenly quieted and looked at Sam. "I didn't mean that. I did, but it's not me Sammy. Stay back."

"Dean, the needles, toss them out," Sam begged him.

Dean shook his head.

"You can do it Dean. Fight its control. I know you can do it."

Dean stared at this brother, his face contorted in pain. He slowly reached his hand under his pillow, grabbed something and tossed. A smattering of items skittered across the floor.

Sam smiled, relieved. "Thanks Dean."

Dean gave a single nod before the look in his eyes changed. "Why don't you come close enough to pick them up, Sammy?"

Nick already had a broom in hand that he stretched out and swept the pieces away from Dean and toward himself. Nick shook his head in amazement. "A button, a safety pin, a zipper pull, a necklace chain, and pieces from the darts. Damn."

Sam shrugged. "We're, uh, kind of use to making due with whatever comes within reach."

"How is it he didn't get away from Thompson's lot?"

"My hands weren't usable then," Dean murmured from where he lay on the floor. "Pins through my palms and most my fingers broken."

"You're awfully together for just having a dose of deadman's blood," Nick said, seeming a little unnerved by the fact.

"It hurts, I feel like I want to hurl, I don't want to move, but I can think a little clearer. Sam … can you stay for a little while?"

Sam sat down and put his back against the support. "As long as you want."


	13. Chapter 13

Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

**Blood Debt**

_Chapter 13_

Dean's welfare spiraled down the hungrier for blood the vampire in him became. The deadman's blood started taking a worse toll on him. He thrashed, he screamed, he cried and begged as the deadman's blood webbed his body with dark lines that just as quickly faded. Sam stayed by him for long periods at a time whenever Dean was given the deadman's blood because during that time, Dean would sometimes be himself. Those times were getting fewer and fewer.

Eight days after their rescue from Thomas' family, Dean collapsed.

Detroit and Lenore held Sam back.

"No, Detroit said, "He will attack you. He will kill you."

"He's unconscious!" Sam fumed and struggled to go to his brother's side.

"The vampire in him would use every last bit of strength he has if he thought he could get fresh blood," Lenore told him. "He's almost killed you once, Sam. You know he'd do it again."

Sam practically collapsed in their arms as the truth sank in. He shook off their hands and moved as close as he dared. "Is he going to pull through, Lenore?" he asked softly.

Lenore moved up next to Sam and settled beside him. "I wish I could tell you, Sam. His chances are poor, you know that."

"It's not too late to finish turning him, is it?" Sam asked, hardly believing the words coming from him. He couldn't bear the thought that after everything they'd been through that Dean would die crumpled in a cage, chains around his wrists and ankles. After he'd been electrocuted and nearly died, after the semi had t-boned the Impala and their father had given up _everything_ to save Dean. Not like this. No.

Lenore took Sam's hand. "No, it's not, but Dean doesn't want that. We both know that. You're desperate Sam. I understand. Do you really want to condemn your brother to becoming a demon half-breed in an undead body?"

Sam's jaw clenched and he shook his head as his tears spilled down his face. He couldn't do that. But he wanted to. God, he wanted to. Anything to save his brother. He wanted to go to the cage and offer Dean his arm, beg him to drink if it would save him. Even if it cost him his own life. "I can't let him die, Lenore," he whispered.

She smiled kindly at him. "If he becomes a vampire, the Dean you know will be dead. Given time, he'll be just as dead as if he were to die physically, now."

Detroit put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Why don't we pray for him, Sam? Maybe God, shocked enough to hear a half-demon praying, will grant us with his kind Grace."

Sam turned his tear-filled gaze to Detroit and managed a nod.

Two days later, when Sam had all but resigned himself to the fact that Dean wasn't going to make it, Dean stirred.

"Sammy?" Dean asked weakly.

"Dean?" Sam asked. He'd hardly slept since Dean's collapse. "I'm here Dean. I'm right here," he said excitedly. He moved closer to bars of the cage. He wanted to go to his brother, but he reluctantly kept his distance.

"Sammy," Dean whispered. "Help me, Sam. I'm hungry. I'm so very hungry."

Sam fought back his tears. "I know, Dean. But I think you're through the worst of it. I'll get you something to eat."

Sam dashed upstairs, dumped a can of soup into a bowl, and shoved it in the microwave. He carried it back downstairs and set it and a spoon on a tray. He pushed the tray up to the side of the cage.

"Dean, I brought you some soup. Do you think you can eat it?"

Dean slowly managed to roll on his side and stared through the bars at his brother. "I don't think I can move. My arms feel like spaghetti. Really heavy spaghetti."

Sam hesitated. "Okay. Just hang on a minute."

Sam went back upstairs and returned a few minutes later, Nick following him down, a pistol loaded with deadman's blood in his hand. Sam opened the cage and entered the cage warily. He set the tray down next to his brother.

"Here, Dean. Try to eat some real food."

Dean struggled to sit up but his hadn't the strength to push himself upright. Sam debated, then got behind Dean and helped him, dragging him close to the bars so he had something to lean against. He got the tray and brought it over to Dean.

He scooped up some soup, "Try to eat this," he said, offering him the spoon of chicken noodle soup.

Dean managed to swallow it. He made a face. "Dude, that's awful."

"Well, I doubt you can manage anything else. Try some more." Sam offered a second spoonful to him.

Dean swallowed it, but grimaced. "Man, it smells so good. Why does it taste so damned rank?"

"Sam," Nick said, warning clear in his voice as he moved closer. "Get out of the cage. _Now._"

Sam looked back, questioningly. "Why?"

Dean suddenly shoved himself off the bars and tackled Sam, the bowl of soup skittering across the cage. Sam held Dean back by his shoulders, startled by the sudden strength Dean had. Dean's eyes gleamed hungrily.

"You're what smells so good," Dean crooned, his fingernails digging into the side of Sam's neck.

Nick fired the gun and the dart buried itself into Dean's back. Dean arched against the pain, momentarily releasing his grip on Sam's throat. Sam kneed Dean in the groin and rolled, managing to pull away and dive for the cage door. Nick grabbed Sam's arm and practically yanked him out of the cage, kicking the door shut with his foot. The door clicked as it locked automatically.

Sam had his hand at his throat and felt the hot blood seeping into his palm. Nick pulled his hand away from it.

"He's weak. It's not that bad. Just some soap and antibiotics should take care of it. Lucky for you both, he didn't quite get to the carotid. And the next time I tell you to get the hell out of the cage, don't stand there and ask me why."

Sam put his hand back over the aching wound. "Sorry."

They both watched as Dean paced back and forth along the bars like an animal. A minute later, Dean's knees gave out as the deadman's blood finally took hold.

"Did you see how long it took for the deadman's blood to kick in?" Nick said with a grin, apparently encouraged by the response. "Your brother's beating it, Sam."

Sam stared in at his brother who was curled up on the floor, moaning in pain, and didn't say a word.

Dean opened his eyes. Sam sat nearby at a table, working on the laptop. Dean could smell the steak and realized just how hungry he was. He looked at his surroundings, trying to put together the pieces. Why was he in chains and locked in a cage? And why did every muscle in him hurt as if he'd gone fifteen rounds with a prizefighter? Oh yeah. Because he was a fucking vampire that had tried to drain his own brother.

Dean tried to speak, but his throat was dry and sore. "Sam?" he managed to whisper.

Sam's head snapped up and he nearly knocked over the chair as he jumped to his feet. "Dean?" Sam said hopefully. Dean noticed Sam stayed back a good five feet from the cage.

"No, Peter Cottontail," Dean whispered. "Water?"

Sam pointed to bottles of water lined up just outside Dean's cage. Dean gave a nod and crawled over to them. He snagged the first, opened it, and guzzled it. His throat felt damned raw, but the water was definitely helping. He finished the first bottle and snagged a second. After downing about half of it, he felt he'd quenched the worst of his thirst.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Like I've been run over by a truck. About twelve times. That steak really smells good," Dean said, eyeing the plate on the desk. His stomach rumbled loudly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, you've said that before. Well, I guess there's only one way to be sure. I'll be right back."

Sam took the stairs two at a time. A few minutes later he returned, with Lenore.

"Hello, Dean," she said. "Feeling a bit more human today?"

"I think so." The memories came back to him in fits and starts. She would cut open her arm and offer it to him. Last time he'd still reacted, still craved it.

Lenore drew a crimson line on her arm with a knife. She moved in close to the cage. Dean looked at it then at her face and Sam's. He shrugged. "Nope. Pretty disgusting. No offense."

She opened the door and came up next to him. Dean caught a slight whiff of the smell he remembered, the smell of the blood that would drive him to madness. He stiffened and eyed the blood, a mixture of desire and revulsion inside him. Lenore backed away.

"Another day or two and you should be safe, Dean," she said. "You'll probably have lingering after effects for a few months though."

"I'm … human?" Dean asked hopefully. 

"Almost. It's probably best if we keep you on the deadman's blood and drinking holy water for a week or two yet, just to make certain the last of the virus is killed, as there's no point tempting fate. Best you stay locked up yet for a few days. Sometimes relapses can happen right at the end."

"So can I have some steak?" Dean asked hopefully. "I'm starved. And the beer. That sounds good too."

Sam went to the desk and picked up his plate and half-empty beer. He'd hardly started on the meal. He handed it and the beer in to Dean warily.

"I'm not going to jump you, Sam," Dean said, taking the plate of food eagerly.

"Yeah, that's what you said three days ago about my hamburger."

The memories filtered back into Dean and he winced. "Uh, well, yeah. Well, I'm not this time. The steak smells a lot better than you do."

"Good."

Dean studied Sam a minute. "I'm guessing since you're out there, you didn't end up turning from the blood Lenore fed you."

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I, uh, I guess I dodged another bullet."

"Be glad. Vampire blood withdrawal sucks out loud. So how are you feeling?" Dean asked as he dug into the meal.

"Pretty good, over all. Still a little lean on endurance. I'm only managing to run a mile every morning."

"Slacker," Dean accused. "How long have I been in here, anyhow?"

Sam's eyes grew hooded. "Two-and-half weeks. You remember any of it?"

Dean looked at his brother then his eyes went back to the plate of food. "Some," he reluctantly admitted. "How's your hand?"

Sam held up his left hand. Bandages were wrapped around it. "Still hurts. You bite damned hard."

"Sorry about that," Dean said quietly.

"Yeah, well, serves me right for letting your bad acting sucker me in."

Dean took another bite of the steak, savoring it. It tasted great. Dean began laughing.

"What?"

"Dude, I will never again give you shit about liking your steak well done."

Sam grinned at him. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to eat anything undercooked ever again."

Dean's smile faded. "I'm really sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I …almost killed you. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough—"

"Shut up, Dude. You weren't yourself. It's fine. Maybe it's just payback from where I shot you with the rocksalt and tried to blow your brains out. No chic flick moments, remember?"

Dean's smile returned. "Yeah. No chic flick moments." He gave Sam a bigger grin and then went back to devouring his well-done steak.

The End.

—————————————————————————————

Thank you all for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it. Your attention and reviews throughout made it very rewarding for me to write it. I may come back and tweak it somewhere down the road, but there'll be no major changes, just some additional texture and description probably. I know I tend to suffer from "white room syndrome" and am trying to overcome that—one of my worst writing habits. I don't have a beta, so any and all errors and issues are mine and mine alone. Again, sincere thanks for everyone's support!


End file.
